


Well, This is How It Goes

by CAWCAWcastiel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Armin and Eren are bros for life, Awkward situations, Blood, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crack, Crushes, Dares that end in good things, Embarassment, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kid!Armin, M/M, Memories, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Related, Minor Character Death, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Sorry Not Sorry, Thug Levi, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Young Levi, angsty pasts, basically crack, because that is what i live for, dares, dares that end in bad things, eren and isabel are related, eren wearing gloves, everything comes around in a circle, kid!Eren, kid!Mikasa, levi embarrassing mikasa, mikasa embarrassing levi, more tags to come, slight eremin, these tags are so light hearted but this story is so intense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAWCAWcastiel/pseuds/CAWCAWcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren sees people's memories when he touches their skin. Dead or alive, he can see them. Fond or Scarring, he can observe them with a single touch. </p><p>Maybe it's a blessing? His parents used to say.</p><p>Eren doesn't think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, honestly I really felt like I needed to write something for the Attack On Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin archive. I have been trying to come up with something good to put into play with this, so I'm just experimenting right now. 
> 
> Tell me if you like it, or send me kink memes. I'm totally open to them.

When it first happens, Eren is playing in the garden, slingshot in hand. He's only four.

His favorite game, shooting the weeds that sprout up on the small plot of soil his family owns, keeps him busy while his mother makes lunch inside.

The broiling sun beats down on his small back as he takes another pebble into the pocket of the sling. He fires it, missing the larger weed towards the front of the garden, and instead hits one of his father's healing herbs.

Eren cringes, his small feet carry him over to the crime scene, trying to straighten the plant with tiny, underdeveloped fingers.

He can feel tears coming to his eyes, understanding only that his father will be angry, when he returns from the trip his mother has told him the man is on. One of the plant's leaves are limp on his fingers, bruised with the force of the pebble. Hopelessly, he tries to right it, bring it back to it's original place before the incident happened, but nothing is working. Eren starts to sniffle, tears leaking down his cheeks.

Then, small feet, smaller than his, step in front of him. Two skinny legs bend down, bringing into Eren's sight a blond bowl of hair, bright balls of the morning sky peering into his own emerald orbs.

The boy tilts his head to the side, staring.

Eren's lip wobbles pitifully.

"What's your name?" A high voice asks, childlike and immature like Eren's own.

Eren wipes a dirty fist across his cheek, scrubbing away the wetness that still lingers.

"'S Eren," He says, and then, like his mother taught him to, "Yours?"

"Armin!" The blond raises his hands in the air, towards the sky matching his eyes, and smiles brightly. His laugh echoes as a little tinkle in the air between them, happy and gleeful. Eren thinks he looks like the sun.

Armin brings his hands down then, pointing at Eren and tilting his head curiously again, like only a minute ago. He blinks, small finger steady and directly in front of Eren's cheek, almost touching his face.

"Why're you crying?" Eren scowls childishly, hiding one hand behind his back while the other scrubs more hurriedly at his face than before. He's still crying, that much is obvious, and it makes him mad that this strange, sun boy gets to see him like this. Only his mother and father get to see him cry, because he's a big boy who doesn't let people he doesn't know talk to him, let alone see him sad.

Besides, he hasn't cried in a whole week, not since he fell and got a splinter in his knee after falling on the floorboards. Eren is very proud of this accomplishment.

"'M not crying!" But Armin keeps looking at him, smiling slightly, kindly, like he really is the sun.

Eren reaches up to wipe at his eyes more, and a tiny hand suddenly catches his own.

A picture, blurry, and slightly gray around the edges, appears in his head. A giant, round cloth, filled with air and attached to a large basket, lands on his eye like a stray piece of dust. Two people, one with hair similar to Armin's and another darker head, get into the basket. The blond one, a young woman like his own mother, is struggling to maintain her grip as the basket rises from the ground. Around them, angry shouts can be heard, distant but still blatantly clear, and Eren knows that this thought, this memory, it isn't his.

It's Armin's.

It's Armin's as the the shouting gets louder.

Armin's as the man in the basket grips the young woman's wrists, trying to pull her up.

Armin's as the gunshots go off in cacophony around him.

And totally, inexplicably, without a doubt, Armin's, as the young woman screams " _Armin, baby, don't look!"_

With a wet gasp, Eren pulls his hand away, breaking the skin on skin contact. 

In front of him, Armin is frowning slightly, brow creased in that way his mother's does when she is worried about him. Those sky flying eyes peer at him, the boy with the dirt streaked cheeks, whose eyes can still see the blood and whose ears can still hear the screams. 

The blond tries to move closer to Eren, obviously wary, and once again reaches a hand out to touch. "Grandfather says that you shouldn't rub your eyes with d-,'

"Stop!"

Shocked, Armin does, eyes wide. 

"I don't want to see that again! I don't!" 

"Wh-"

"No! It's scary, so I don't want to! Why did you show me that?!"

Now, Eren can hear his mother behind him, footsteps light and rushed in the worried gait of a caretaker. Armin looks terrified in front of him, but still crouches where he was, while Eren backs away from him.

"Eren, sweetie, what is it?" His mother, voice calm, gentle.

Eren swallows, sucking snot into his throat and reaching for the embrace that he seeks.

Then, quietly, "Why did they die? Why did you show me that, Armin?"

Silence. 

"Why did your parents die like that?"

 

 


	2. Shiganshina Detective: Eren Yeager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it says crack on the tags, and that is where I'm going with this. It's gonna start out kind of angsty and serious but don't worry, it'll get into the funny stuff. It's just a slow burn!

Eren is seven when a murder takes place around the corner from his home. He remembers it vividly, every second of it. 

The woman that raps on their door at dawn is a surprise to all three members of the Yeager household.

Bright and early, the reds and yellows of the sunrise had barely started to shine down on Shiganshina. Eren was still asleep, of course, he remembers that. The tiny bed he slept in was comfortable enough that he could curl up in soft handmade quilts and forget about the world, eyes tightly shut against the cruelties of reality that he had yet to be subjected to. He was dreaming about the sun, enveloping him in its warmth, and hugging him close to its radiance. The warm, soothing heat had only just becoming scalding when he was awoken.

His mother is up and about, still in her flimsy nightdress, as the obnoxious racket lays a siege on the house. Her bare feet make no sound as she treads over to him, crouching down beside him and trying to cover his ears. It's no use, Eren is already awake and alert, slowly sitting up against the push of his mother's gentle hands. His eyes are crusty as he tries to clear them, and looks around, observing his father already at the door.

Grisha is whispering something to the person on the other side. First, his words are clearly harsh, reprimanding, like they would be when Eren is snotty or disrespectful to his parents. Eren tilts his head as Armin does when he's curious, straining to hear better. Then, something changes, and his father's back tenses as tight as a wire, closing the door a little more, trying to speak in even more of a hushed tone than before.

Carla is still beside him, trying to sooth Eren back into sleep. 

Its definitely not working. Eren is hooked into the scene laid out before him.

As suddenly as it had happened, it's over. Grisha is still rushing over to the rack where he keeps his coat though, clearly distressed, if his facial features are anything to go by. The lines around his eyes are tight with anxiety and stress, making him seem older, less like Eren's father and more like the sophisticated doctor his job requires him to be. Even Carla has noticed it, worriedly following her husband with her own eyes, frowning deeply.

At last, she rises from her crouch.

The conversation that follows is too low to be heard by Eren, but he can tell that it's something that only adults are allowed to know about. They're arguing. About what, only they know, their backs turned and their shoulders hunched forward. 

Then, Grisha is turning sharply, the soles of his boots tapping against the old, wooden floor, and he's flying towards the door. His face is grim as he pulls his hat on, gait wide and fast. Carla is on his heels, continuing to speak in low tones to him, maybe trying to dissuade him from whatever it is he's doing, but it's not working, just as it didn't with Eren before. Her face is becoming more and more puckered as Grisha crosses the floor. Her lips are pressed together so tightly that they turn white, and her hands are quickly curling into fists. 

And as Grisha closes the door behind him, Eren's mother slams one of said fists on the wall beside it. The resounding _THUMP_ plays over and over again in Eren's ears as she hides her face and takes deep breaths. His eyes are wide as saucers.

And yeah, Eren, even at the age of seven, already knows which side of the family he gets his anger issues from.

For such things to happen this early in the morning, well, all Eren knew is that today would be fun. 

As Carla cools down, arm still covering her features and chest still heaving angrily, her son makes his way to the window. The chair stationed there creaks sullenly as he leans on it, soft woolen quilt covering his shoulders, eyes scanning the empty walkway beside their house. Eren holds his breath, waiting, waiting for something to happen.

He waits for a crescendo to a thrilling climax.

But, it never appears.

The desolate dirt road outside stays barren and abandoned as it usually is this early in the morning. Eren sighs in disappointment, head sagging down onto the windowsill ledge. His lips push out into something vaguely resembling the pout homeless dogs on the street use to barter for food. 

When he looks up, Carla is finally calm again, watching her son with an unreadable expression. He doesn't know why, but Eren feels ashamed for having longed for such a thrilling adventure where there clearly wasn't one. He slouches, chin dropping to his chest, avoiding his mother's eyes.

"Eren, sweetie," Carla's soft voice says, consoling and pleading all at the same time. No doubt, she knows what Eren has been thinking, being his mother after all. "Would you like to go back to bed?"

"No." Eren voices his objection stubbornly, eliciting a tired sigh from his mother. The sun is almost fully shining over the walls now, deep blends of red and yellow fading to a Shiganshina norm of bright, humid, heated mornings.

Slowly, with definite hesitance, Carla Yeager distances herself from her son, moving to start the daily morning chores. Her feet are as light as ever, something Eren has come to associate with his mother after growing up in such close proximity to her, as she walks along the floorboards. They creak beneath her feet, giving her away, revealing the aging of both the house and Carla.

They're old, so old.

In the corners of his mind, Eren wonders what his young mother would look like with gray streaks permeating her hair, similar to the older women in the market. He can picture it now. His mother's eyes, so like his own, crinkling around the corners, laughter lines adorning her face, as she searches for suitable meats and vegetables to procure for her hungry family. 

The thought makes Eren distraught, sad that his mother won't always be there for him. That someday she will be gone, much more into the future, and he will be an adult already. An adult with a wife, like Carla hopes, and some kids of his own to feed. And, Eren realizes belatedly, that hurts.

It hurts deep in his chest when he thinks of losing his mother. 

It causes a tinge of pain at the thought that he might not have a family to present to his parents, to his mother. If those dark green cloaks riding through town every spring are anything to go by, and the way his heart picks up with excitement every time he lays an eye on them. His dream, his new favorite thing, is to imagine himself on one of those majestic stallions, wearing those wings of freedom, and riding through town for all to admire. 

It's a lot for someone to his age to be thinking about, only seven and dreaming of joining the Survey Corps. Only seven, and thinking of the time when he won't be with his mother for once. When he won't have those loving arms to run into whenever he scrapes his knee or cuts his finger on a sharp object.

Abruptly, Eren shakes himself out of his thoughts.

_This is no time to be thinking about such depressing things when there could be an adventure out there, just around the corner!_

With this thought, Eren extracts himself from the windowsill, bright red indention on his chin, and races towards the small drawers where he keeps his clothes. 

The day has only just begun.

\--------------

Armin is bleary eyed and confused when Eren shows up on his doorstep, clumsily dressed and radiating excitement. Eren's feet are shifting in the way that they do when he finds something interesting, when he's gearing up to get moving towards whatever the entertainment for the day is.

Eren tells him to get dressed, tells him to forget his book about oceans, because he thinks that whatever it is he's found is going to be even more fun. _We won't have time to look at it, Armin! Just get dressed already!_

And, okay, usually the stuff that his best friend finds, however random, is a whole lot of fun. Even though Armin loves his book, he loves Eren too, loves the way he's always seeking adventure in a town where nothing happens. It's a desolate, boring world out there, in poor, outer Shiganshina, where they're regarded by the inner walls as peasants, useless except for the little food production they have. It might be the best possible thing to happen to him, finding Eren, otherwise he might have rotted away into the ground underneath. 

So, with little reluctance or doubt, Armin gets dressed. He tells his grandfather that he's going out before he leaves, and, well, then they're off. Off to whatever pending adventure Eren has constructed.

The first thing Eren tells him, as they stroll down the empty streets and converse in hushed tones, is of his father's strange behavior this morning. The elder Yeager is always off on some job, as there is always someone who needs him, being a doctor and all. But this morning something was off with Eren's father, body language betraying that something big had happened. 

Eren tells him that they need to find wherever his father has gone, search for the house he might be residing in for the day.

Eren is very good at finding things.

He found Armin's book when he lost it in the market, almost a year ago. 

He found his mother's wedding band hidden under the cot that his parents shared, his father's stethoscope when he accidentally misplaced it at a patient's house.

Eren was  _very good_ at finding things.

Whether it had to do with his "gift", Armin had some suspicions. 

Eren usually avoided touching people, just as he was doing now, and Armin can fairly say that he can't blame him. That time when they had first met, three years ago, had terrified both him and Eren. It had shocked his parents, kept Eren an emotional mess for a week afterwards, until Armin had finally approached him again.

Apparently, neither Eren nor his parents had known, because Eren was so used to touching them that he assumed the flashbacks were normal. He wasn't bothered by knowing their whole pasts. Now, he doesn't touch Armin or his parents very often. Evidently, he seems disturbed at reaching into someone's past just like that, just by touching them. 

Though, maybe there are times when Eren only touches them to help. He could always subtly touch them in a place where they wouldn't notice. Just a small brush of hands against each other while they're out, searching for whatever it is that they could have lost.

But now, Armin has no idea how they are going to find this house Eren wants. Has no idea how they're going to find Grisha Yeager. Nobody is even out of their house yet, probably still getting ready for the day, so there's no one in streets that Eren could touch and get information from.

The sun is fully out now, shining down on them, slowly burning his pale skin. Surely, he'll be a little more red at the end of the day. 

Eventually, Eren stops them, drags Armin by the sleeve towards a hidden cove, drenched in shadows and spider webs. What is happening, Armin can't tell, but the look on Eren's face means that someone is passing by. It could just be the day's first shopper, heading to the marketplace to barter for a decently priced breakfast. Which would be nothing to worry about, if it was. 

But clearly, it isn't. 

Eren is totally still, body barely moving, still hanging onto Armin's sleeve. Armin is careful not to touch the hand that grips it. 

The other boy's face is set into a scowl, eyes scanning, following whoever it is that has deemed to come strolling down the streets. If he strains his hearing, Armin can hear some quiet mumbling, presumably from the stranger, as Eren's lips aren't moving, and none of it sounds like it's in a light tone. It's obviously someone who is irritated, worried, or stressed out. One of those, or all three. 

All that can be heard after awhile, once the mumbling stops, is the sound of their breathing, apprehensive in the tight space they've pressed into. Eren is still scanning, emerald orbs glinting when they catch a stray ray of sunlight. It's intense, watching him do this, because Armin can never tell what he's going to do next. He's unpredictable.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Eren moves, taking Armin with him. They dash out into the light, out of the musty hiding space, and sprint down the street before taking a sharp turn around the right-hand corner. Surprised, Armin lets himself be dragged along, the sun's rays blinding him before his eyes can adjust.

"I think I know where he's going!" Eren says, over the quick pace that he's set. His face is determined, eyes focused ahead on a particular spot, Armin doesn't know where, and its exhilarating.

The air on his face.

The sun in his eyes.

Eren's heavy breathing ahead of him.

All of it is exhilarating. 

Before he knows it, Eren is pulling up short. His feet skid on the ground as he tries to slow himself, and Armin almost face plants before his friend saves him. 

As Armin steadies himself, he comes to a realization. The house they have stopped in front of is one he recognizes. It belongs to one of the older boys in town, and his family. 

_Fred_ , Armin reminds himself,  _Fred Din is his name._

Fred was one of his bullies. Whenever he was picked on, Fred was there, laughing and jeering along with the others, before Eren had the chance to save him. Like he always did.

But why were they here now?

Confused, Armin glances to Eren at his side. 

Eren is staring at the house like he would a freshly picked sweet bun. Tempting. Delicious. Desiring to be eaten and picked away at. It's an expression that one might have when they desire to taste all of the sweetness the sweet bun might give, getting their fingers messy in the process, like it's worth it. 

Armin doesn't like it.

Yet.

_Who was he kidding?_

He totally  _does._

Eren finds the best adventures when he wears that expression. Every single time. Armin has no doubts that today would be any different.

With a burst of excitement in his chest, Armin takes his sleeve from Eren's grasp. The other boy is already moving towards the front door, facial expression no different than before. All the blond can do is follow him.

When Eren gets to the handle, though, he pauses. The brunet seems to be realizing a bit of hesitance in his actions. 

Armin can hear someone talking inside. He wonders if the man Eren saw on the street is already in there, conversing with Grisha. They might have bypassed him though, taken a different route, because they didn't see anyone on their running spree. It's possible Eren could have heard the man's mumblings, since he had no way to touch him in their hiding spot. 

Eren twists the handle.

It's unlocked.

He lets it open on its own with only a small push, the door creaking loudly as it reveals the inside. 

_Blood._

_Blood everywhere._

_On the walls. On the windows. On the furniture._

_On the dead body._

Armin screams.

Screams so loud that all heads in the room turn to look at him, at Eren. 

But Eren. Eren doesn't move.  _Doesn't even flinch._

He just stands there, staring. Staring at the mangled body in the middle of the blood soaked floor.

Armin is crying now. Hands coming up to cover his face, shielding his eyes from the horrid sight in front of him. It stains his eyelids, paints his mind as he pictures it, can't get it out of his head.

Grisha moves first.

He takes two long strides before he grabs Eren's hand, and picks Armin up by his small waist. He takes them to the side of the house, where Armin balls and screams some more, attracting the neighbors' attentions. Someone closes the door to the house behind them.

Eren is still frozen in place, forest green eyes glazed over with who knows what. His expression is unreadable by this point. 

Grisha consoles Armin, taking him into his arms and soothing hands down his back. The gestures are uncomfortable, as Grisha is not the best at comforting victims of traumatic experiences. He goes through them every day, after all. But he still tries, mumbling reassurances while his son stands before him, unmoving, so still his father worries he might be brain dead.

_Carla is going to kill him._

Before long, Armin relaxes, clutches Grisha's coat in his small hands like a vice, and rests his head against the eldest Yeager's shoulder.

He's mumbling something.

"Take it back," the small voice whispers, scared and traumatized. "Make it go away."

_Oh yes,_ Grisha thinks,  _Carla is definitely going to kill him._

He pulls Armin closer to his chest. He doesn't risk touching his son.

Eren has probably already seen, anyway. He touched his father's hand when he was dragged out of the house.

He can't tell if his son really is traumatized like Armin, if he's only showing it in a different way. It's definitely not healthy though. None of it is. For a child his age to even see something like what is in that house is a big no no.

What Grisha doesn't expect though, after a few moments of tense, crouching silence, is Eren's mumble of, "I can help."

"What? What are you talking about?" Grisha snaps. Probably not the best way to handle a victim who might be in shock. Oh well.

"I can help find who did it."

This statement causes confusion in his father, as his expression betrays incredulity. There would be no way for Eren to help in this situation. It was out of his childish hands. Out of the question.

Then, a realization. 

_If Eren can see a living person's past by touching their bare skin, can he see a dead person's, too?_

No, he shouldn't. He really shouldn't do it. This child has seen enough to last a lifetime, already.

He should just leave the forming hypothesis alone.

_Carla is going to kill him anyway. She'll just do it by chopping up all his limbs._

He's going to do it.

Totally.

With a sigh of feigned resignation, because he really is interested in what his son can do, he sets Armin down on the ground. Tells him to wait there, that he will be back in a moment. 

Then, he takes Eren's hand in his own once again, showing him more of what he's already seen, and leads him back towards the door.

For lack of better words, the people already inside are surprised when they see Eren. They eye both Grisha and his son warily because _what is a child doing here?_  

Good question.

Now, he brings his son forward, guiding him with a work hardened hand on his back. The body is the same as it was before. Still mangled. Still oozing blood everywhere. The eyes are still open in shock at what was surely a gruesome death.

Its Fred's father, no doubt. The features are still intact.

Eren takes all of it in calmly. Like he sees this kind of thing regularly, on a daily basis. His movements are relaxed, though they steadily get more stiff the closer he gets to the body. Emerald jewels soak in all the details.

"Eren." 

His son doesn't stop walking.

"Are you sure about this?"  _Please be sure about this,_ his intellectual mind says.  _Please let me take you away from this place,_ his fatherly instincts say.

He ignores the latter.

Eren stops before the body, feet splashing slightly in a puddle of blood near the head. His eyes are downcast, staring like he was when he first opened that door. 

" _Yes._ " It comes out as a hiss, makes shivers go down Grisha's spine. The others are staring, too. Staring at his son, watching Eren like a hawk. The child is oblivious though. 

There's something about the way Eren bends down to loom over the fearful face of the victim that makes Grisha's toes curl in apprehension. His curiosity is peaked, to say the least. Carla is definitely going to kill him after this, but it could be worth it. Eren's body language, at just seven years old, gives off an immense amount of confidence, fear, of  _anger._

Eren places his thumb on a clean spot on the face. Grisha gets ready for something, anything. A gasp of pain, maybe, or a shocked reaction.

Nothing. 

The green eyed boy just takes his thumb away after a moment, stands, and walks to the door. His steps aren't even hurried, only casual. As if he might just be taking a stroll through the market.

Then, he stops. Turns. Looks his father in the eyes. 

"It was Mrs. Din." 

Silence.

Then…

The room rises into chaos, Grisha and his son in the middle of it, calm and clear sighted. They are the eye of the storm, and all Grisha can do is stare at Eren, slightly smiling.

_How interesting._


	3. First Murder, First Sister? Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the long awaited Mikasa chapter.

To be honest, Mikasa Ackerman's childhood was as carefree as it could get. The work, well the work was never too hard in that it got strenuous, and not once has she had to give herself a poor excuse of entertainment because she had nothing to do. The work was good, that's all there was to it. Good for her, and good for her small family.

They profited from this work, provided herbs to the scarce residents on the mountainside, as well as to the small town at the base of the mountain. True, they definitely were not rich, there's only so much hunting and gathering can do for you in terms of money. But for her family, it was enough to sustain them and keep food in their stomachs at the end of the day. 

Her mother, a soft spoken woman and last of her tribe, dealt with the few customers they got, elegantly and with a grace that Mikasa envied. Usaka Ackerman, gentle and delicate, whose eyes shone like mercury in the sun's rays, was, in fact, a beautiful woman. Men and women alike appraised her with their eyes as they went into town, children stopped playing their games to stare with wide eyes at her gorgeous mother as she strolled past. Mikasa had asked her mother once, if she noticed that they stared, if she cared that sometimes men looked at her with greed in their eyes. 

Usaka had simply smiled, reached out a hand to stroke her daughter's ebony locks.  _They do indeed stare, every time we go to market,_ She had said,  _But their stares don't matter to me. There is only one that does._   _  
_

From his seat to her mother's right, Colin Ackerman had smiled slyly, eyes crinkling fondly as he looked at Usaka. 

They stared at each other for quite a while, Mikasa looking back and forth between them with wide eyes. Such love in their stares, even Mikasa, seven years old at the time, could come to appreciate the bond they shared. Never had she ever seen them fight before, not even once. They always seemed to have an understanding of each other's feelings. 

The flowers and herbs that were grown in their small garden were usually tended to by Usaka, with Mikasa helping out once in a while. Her mother had always said that she had a natural green thumb, and that whenever she was around, the plants seemed to blossom in her presence. Colin often joked with her and said that before she was born, none of the plants ever grew correctly, either being too small or inedible in general. Such jokes never failed to make the youngest Ackerman blush. Her father was a natural comedian.

Still, Mikasa had come to appreciate her childhood environment. Her favorite activity was chasing the butterflies through the clearings located around their property. Such small, beauteous things the insects were, flying all around her. They captured her attentions whenever they were around, made her parents smile, and she would do whatever it took to keep those smiles on their faces. 

Yes, Mikasa had a good childhood.

Then there was the day her uncle showed up on their doorstep.

She remembers it, because she had never met another relative of hers before.

Her parents, even though they weren't related and couldn't trace their history back to a single common ancestor, had the same last names. No, not because they were married. Because those were their birth names. This had been explained to Mikasa before, and she knew what she talked about. Her mother had the same maiden name as her father, simply because that was how it turned out. It was only a coincidence.

As for her relatives though, she knew most of her mother's family was either missing or dead. Her father never talked about his.

The Usaka Ackerman side of the family stemmed back into a race that was now very rare inside the walls. In fact, her mother sometimes practiced their old customs, though only the basic ones, inside their home. They were intricate, beautiful rituals and traditions that Mikasa yearned to learn. To think that she had the same blood as those rare peoples was truly mystifying. 

It was a shame that they had mostly died out already.

When her mother was child, human traffickers had come into her village, killed the men in gruesome, cruel ways. They had taken the women and children to be sold on the market as slaves, or as mistresses to nobles. Usaka was very young then, she barely even remembers some things, but she does recall the memory of watching her older brother being clubbed to death for resisting his assaulter. _He was fifteen then, almost of legal marrying age, and adored by all the girls in the village_ , her mother had said, manner solemn and grieving.  _I watched the club come down onto his head like time had slowed. Before the final blow, we made eye contact, and he screamed. I had never heard my brother scream._

After that, her mother had escaped, and somehow found a new family to live with in the span of a year. They died when she was a teenager, but after she had found her husband. They were already married when the news of their deaths had reached the couple.

In spite of her terrifying past, that should have crippled her mother far beyond repair, Usaka Ackerman is strong. She no longer grieves over the past, for there is no way of changing it. Her husband gives her even more strength, supporting her, carrying her burdens on his own shoulders, and she his. 

Whenever she had asked her father of his own past, his own family, he had looked at her with hardened eyes, gazed at her solemnly. His own eyes resembled hers, pure gray, but duller than her mother's. Mikasa couldn't tell at the time, but they held a great weight behind them, told of a different sort of past than what he was living now.

She only understood the looks her father had given her when she was older. When she shared that hardened stare, and gazed at her new family with those dull gray eyes.

But now, as she looks over the man on their front doorstep, Mikasa notices that his eyes are positively alight. Almost feral-like. The being standing before their threshold is a monster. It's all in his eyes. 

"Colly-boy! Nice to see ya!" With two great strides, he's inside the house, this monster, this stranger with the burning eyes. He pats her father's shoulder like he's a long time companion, faces the stone hard glare Colin gives the man with a calm resolve. Those eyes drift, land first on Usaka, lips tilting into a smug smile before making their way over to Mikasa and staying there. "Nice family you got here!"

"Kenny." Her father's voice is cold, colder than his daughter has ever heard it before. 

The man continues to stare at Mikasa, eyebrows raising when her expression darkens. She recognizes trouble when she sees it, even though its uncommon around her. Its there in the occasional brown bear that appears on the property, in the smoldering looks men give her mother, give her sometimes, too. Its sick, disgusting, and that's exactly what this man before her is. Trouble. An irritating rash on her family's skin. Her father's voice only confirms it.

"You know, your girl sure is beautiful. What's your name, kid?" He says, ignoring the warning that Colin is giving, the tense stance of her mother as she stands from her seat. Kenny, as her father had called him, plops down onto the hand made table top, wood creaking beneath his weight. Mikasa continues to stare at him, and he her, gazes sharp and unyielding. "Hmm, not too talkative, huh? Reminds me of someone I knew, when he was younger." 

Kenny shoots Colin a sly glance, and Mikasa swears she can hear her father's blood boiling.

"Get out, Kenny." Usaka is poised behind her daughter now, protective hand resting on her slim shoulder. 

The unspoken threat fails to intimidate him, clearly only making him amused. He voices this by forcing out a hearty laugh, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. 

"I see you haven't changed, Usaka!" He pauses, shooting Mikasa another glance before looking away entirely. "But that's not the reason I'm here."

"I don't care, Kenny. Get out of our home." Colin steps forward, putting a forceful hand upon the man's shoulder, trying to pull him towards the door. Kenny doesn't even waver. 

"You know, you might. If you heard that it was about our sister." 

Colin pauses, expression changing into one of surprise for a brief moment. Then back to aggravated. 

"What about Kuchel?" 

"Well," Kenny removes his brother's hand from his shoulder with an expression of distaste. "She's dead."

Mikasa's father sputters, face paling, hand falling away completely. Behind her, her mother gasps, surprised and wet. 

Colin's expression is one of pure shock, surprised and completely grief ridden. His body is almost limp, and he reaches a hand out to catch him himself on the table before he falls to the ground. "What?"

"Kuchel…is dead?" Usaka says, voice small.

Kenny's eyes seem to have softened, if only a small amount. "Yeah."

"When?" Colin gets out, clearly struggling to contain himself. 

Kenny sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, which is overgrown and long, slicked back, down to his shoulders. 

"When did she die, Ken?" Colin uses the nickname almost casually, like he wasn't just about to force this man out of his home. Mikasa stills looks at him distrustfully, still wary of the man who is supposedly her uncle.

"Twenty-three years ago." 

Silence pierces the room. 

Before anybody can react, Colin is in front of Kenny, pristine shirt fisted in his hands. His eyes are unlike Mikasa has ever seen them, intense, full of anger and resentment. "What do you mean by that?"

"It means she died a long time ago, Colly!" Kenny shouts in his brother's face, expression betraying his own anger for the first time since his arrival.

"Why didn't you come earlier?! Why didn't you tell me as soon as possible?! You know how valuable she was to me!"

"Because I knew you wouldn't welcome me into your home, you fool! You think I didn't know how much you loved her? I'd have to be fucking stupid if I didn't! We all loved her!" Kenny is shoving his brother away now, pushing him back, and Colin is doing just the same. Mikasa's mother grips her shoulder more tightly, bending down to wrap her other arm around her, comforting.

"This is why I left the family business! This! Too many secrets!" Colin shouts, voice filling the room, and it seems to Mikasa that he is a different man than she knows. 

"Well, you should be happy to know that she left behind a son, then." It comes out as an angry hiss, filled with contempt and rage. But now Mikasa is scared, scared of this man and what might come to happen should this fight turn to blows. She knows her father is older, older than her mother by almost ten years, so he has some experience under his belt. But she doesn't know if he is experienced in fighting like this man seems to be.

Colin stills, hands starting to shake. His face changes, changes into an expression of grief once again.

" _What?"_

"Yep, raised the kid myself once his mom died!"

"And where is he  _now_?"

Kenny smirks, shrugs.

"He's a thug. The strongest and most skilled of them, too, if I do say so myself." He says so, smugly. Her father's lip curls.

"You raised Kuchel's only next of kin to be a thug? What were you thinking?"

"Actually, I originally raised him to continue the family business. Didn't tell him he was part of the family, though."

Usaka tenses. "You didn't tell him you were his uncle? You let him think he was alone?"

Kenny laughs, rough and piercing. It sends a spark down Mikasa's spine.

"What's his name?" Mikasa has had enough of this. Her voice shakes, and she may be a child, but she's still allowed to ask questions. That's what being a child is all about, gaining knowledge from the adults around you.

"Mikasa." Usaka tries to console her, stop her from talking. From asking the important questions.

"What's my cousin's name?"  _I'm smart_ , Mikasa thinks,  _I know the term for that kind of relative._

Kenny looks at her, something unreadable in his eyes. It's different than before, she knows that he'll answer her. The reason? Well.

It's because she's _interesting._

"His name is Levi, kid." 

Mikasa nods, a silent thank you.

Kenny smiles back, almost animal like.


	4. First Murder, First Sister? Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the thrilling Mikasa chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Disclaimer: I do not own Attack On Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin, nor do I own the characters. I do not own Mikasa's mother or father, as they are also property of Hajime Isayama. The anime nor the manga ever gave her parents' names away, so I just made them up.
> 
> Also, I might take longer to update from now on, because of school. The only reason I've been able to update this often is because of floods and all the roads being blocked aha.

Thoughts of her cousin, out there and alone, plague Mikasa for weeks. She can't imagine what living in the underground city is like, nor the life of a thug, but she can grasp perfectly the manner of which her parents had sat down after her uncle had left. Their heads in their hands, particularly her father, they had conversed privately while she did the afternoon chores that she had neglected. Clearly, the thought of her cousin being a thug in the underground was a treacherous thing, possibly the worst thing to happen in their family.

To even think she had met another family member was hard to believe.

The news of her cousin led to the eventual questions about her father's life, of course.

It had only started with a simple confirmation. Mikasa was finishing drying the meager dishes they owned, Usaka by her side, when the young girl glanced over shyly. Her mother had smiled, thin lips turning up into a twitch of amusement at her daughter's coyness. Then, "Mommy, is Daddy older than Uncle Kenny?" 

Usaka stopped, put down the bowl she was cleaning out with soap, and looked down at Mikasa.

"No, sweetie. Daddy is the youngest of his siblings." 

She went back to scrubbing a stray particle of stale bread from the bowl. Mikasa pondered her mother's answer for a moment, blinking up through the sunlight pouring into their home from the window. If she turned her head, she could see her father gutting the geese he caught earlier that day, but that wasn't necessarily a pleasant thing to witness.

So she went back to drying the dishes she was handed.

\-------------

Three days later, Mikasa is checking the bear traps with her father. Her finger had been caught by one of the sharp metal points, something uncommon to happen to her, and Colin is treating the small wound. His deft fingers, though not as delicate as Usaka's, do a job well done, efficient and quick. Mikasa watches him, plainly staring as to catch his attention. 

With a chuckle, he finally looks up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Mikasa?" He asks, already having anticipated one of her childish questions.

"Why don't you and Uncle Kenny get along?"

Colin tenses, sudden, eyes widening and blinking in surprise. His lips part to say nothing, only moving on their own. He looks like one of the fish from the river flowing down the mountain, Mikasa thinks. Her father is certainly doing a spot on impression of a freshly caught trout she helped catch the previous year.

Her father gulps, mouth finally shutting, eyebrows furrowing into something of a grimace.

"Why would you want to know that, sweetheart?" His voice is hoarse, as if he has gone through a coughing fit. Mikasa's lips push out into a little pout.

"Shouldn't brothers be nice to each other?" She asks, eyes wide and confused. 

 _She is only a child. Indulge her,_ Colin reminds himself. 

He sighs, taking his daughter's injured hand in his own. He stares down at it, thinking of how to word his response.

"Sometimes," The man starts, after a moment. "Sometimes, brothers and sisters don't get along like they're supposed to, Mikasa. And that's just the way it is. It's like that for me and your uncle." 

"Well, I think that all siblings should get along. No matter if they love each other or not." Mikasa states, yanking her hand from Colin and crossing her arms across her chest. She's always been stubborn, though it barely shows. But she  _is_ an Ackerman, after all.

It runs in the family.

Sort of.

(Mikasa often wonders if her cousin is as stubborn as she can be sometimes. At this point, she will distract herself enough afterwards that she forgets the thought entirely.)

Back to the present, though.

Colin runs a hand through his hair, looks away, and glances back to his daughter again.

"Sweetheart, I _do_ love Kenny. You're very right. But sometimes we're hard on each other to show we care, too, I guess." The reality, which Colin aims to hide from his daughter for as long as possible, is that he and his brother have drifted. Drifted apart after so many years of Kenny continuing the family business, of Colin finding a new life and family. The news of their sister's death has only widened the hole between them, contrary to the thought that it might have brought them back together. 

And he doesn't plan on sewing that hole back together anytime in the future, either.

He _will not_ let Mikasa be sucked into the cruel world of 'kill or be killed'. 

He would rather die.

\--------------

The day Mikasa meets Eren Yeager is the day her life takes a sharp turn in the other direction. 

It starts out as any other day, as her nine year old self sits at their handcrafted table and practices sewing. Usaka sits beside her, humming an old tune left behind by her tribe. A lullaby, if Mikasa recognizes the melody correctly. The soft undertones of her mother's voice are soothing to listen to, relaxing on a calmer day of summer. 

It's too hot outside to do any yard work, and it gets so cold at night that there's really no time to do anything besides house chores. For this reason, the family takes the day as a breath of fresh air. Metaphorically, of course.

Mikasa is barely adequate in sewing, far behind the likes of her mother. Her stubbornness makes her unable to give up on the activity, though, despite her utter dislike of it. The skill is useful, if she ever wants her own family in the future. All those beautiful dresses and handsome waistcoats linger in her mind, giving her a goal, igniting a small flame within her that simmers quietly within their small cabin. She wonders if her mother ever imagined making beautiful clothes for her daughters when she was child herself, like Mikasa does. 

There's a knock at the door, but it doesn't come as a surprise to any of them. Doctor Yeager was meant to arrive soon, anyway, for their yearly check ups. Mikasa thinks he seems like a nice enough man, gentle when it comes to children, but also very blunt. He has never wavered in his honesty whenever she asked him questions about his job, or if he's been hunting before. 

There are some images that don't need to linger in her mind as vividly as Doctor Yeager describes them. 

She'll stick to handmade dresses and suits, _thank you very much_.

Sometimes, the man will talk about his family. He doesn't do it often. Not often enough that Mikasa really knows their names, or what they're like, that's for sure. But she gets curious as to what kind of father this man would make. Would he be like her own father? Does he spoil his son, since that's what Mikasa has gathered his child is, with knowledge and sweets when he can? Does he love his wife unconditionally?  These questions have no way of being answered, and all that she can tell so far, in the years since her infant hood when they first met, is that her parents are fond of him. And that's answer enough.

Mikasa's father goes to answer the door, casual, smiling as he grips the handle. Mikasa looks down before he opens it though, only hears him say, "Doctor Yeager, we've been wait-" He cuts off abruptly, but neither Mikasa or Usaka look up yet. 

They hear a shaky gasp from the other side of the room, and a large _THUD_  as something heavy falls to the ground. This catches their attentions, and when the mother and daughter duo raise their heads in unison, the sight in front of them burns into their eyelids. 

Mikasa's father, on the ground, head sagging against his chest. A small pool of blood is forming around him. 

"Nice to see you, Colly," A man, now coming into the house, says, hand casually holding a small object. Mikasa hears her mother take a deep breath.

He's holding a knife.

Covered in blood.

 _Her father's blood,_ Mikasa's thoughts supply.

The man turns to them, two others snickering behind him. "Hello. Pardon the intrusion." He says it with such a calm demeanor, such relaxed body language, so sure of how he thinks this is going to turn out.

Briefly, the thought of her uncle flashes through her mind, until one of the other men says, "Stay calm, unless you want me to split your skull with this." 

Then, before she knows it, her mother is out of her chair, screaming.

_Screaming._

The woman attacks the larger man, the one with the axe, small pair of sewing scissors in her hand. Somehow, she'd managed to grab them without being noticed.

"Crazy bitch!" 

He grabs her wrists, preventing her from moving any further, from achieving her goal of revenge. She keeps _screaming_ , eyes manic, alight with a burning protective nature. 

"Mikasa!  _Run!"_

Mikasa can't run. She can't move. Her feet are stuck to the wooden paneling beneath her, sheer shock taking over her body. She's managed to stand with her mother's bold actions, but that's as far as she can go.

_She won't abandon her family._

"Mom…?" A croak of a question. 

_Are you coming with me?_

" _Hurry, Mikasa!_ " Usaka is still screeching, screaming at the man with the axe, screaming at her daughter.

A tiny shake of the head. Her eyes are wider than they've ever been. 

_Where would she even go?_

She turns her body, looks back at Colin. Maybe…?

"But…Dad?" 

No, he wouldn't be able to protect them now. The thought makes her eyes water, her throat close up. 

She looks back at the struggle happening before her.

Just in time. 

With a snarl, the offending attacker loses his patience. "Dammit! Enough already!" 

The axe comes down.

Down onto her mother.

It sinks into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the sound of the sharp tool cutting bone echoing throughout the room. There's blood. _So much blood._ Her mother's hand flies up to the wound, hand dropping the meager weapon that she was wielding.

As Usaka falls, first to her knees, and then to her side, she reaches a hand out towards her daughter. Her eyes, those shining mercury colored jewels, alight with joy only a few moments ago, are pleading as she catches one last look of Mikasa. 

Then, she's gone.

Her eyes are open as she lays there, unmoving, blood pooling quickly around her. Those orbs are dull, void of life. Her clothes soak the blood up, turning her beautiful, handmade skirt a dark crimson. 

Distantly, Mikasa hears the men arguing. She tunes them out.

"What are you doing?! I told you, only kill the man!"

"But that bitch-"

"Screw your excuses!"

Mikasa's mouth hangs open, eyes unblinking, even as the man with the axe comes towards her. She doesn't move, as she is petrified.

"Take the brat and run!"

The man sighs, footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. 

"You'd better behave yourself."

Mikasa has no choice. It's not like she can even respond properly, the effects of trauma taking over her body. All thoughts of her uncle are gone, her cousin not even a glint on the horizon, as she stares down at her parents' dead bodies.

"Otherwise you'll get more of this!"

She doesn't react when he grabs the front of her dress, pulling hard on the fabric as to lift her off her heels.

Mikasa barely even reacts when the hit comes, not a sound escaping her.

She blacks out, the devoid mirrors of her mother's eyes the last thing she sees.

\--------------

Eren doesn't say anything when his father opens the Ackerman's front door, after receiving no response. The joints creak sullenly, as if expressing his full mood today.

Somehow, his father had gotten the idea into his thick head that Eren needed more friends.  _Yes, surely I need more people around to judge me for my odd abilities._ This was the solution. The Ackermans have a daughter,  _Mikasa,_ his father had said before they left, right around his age. The unneeded image of her birth, one month before his own, is engrained into his mind, after incidentally touching his father on the way up the mountain.

His hands curl into fists when he witnesses the aftermath of what must have surely been a gruesome attack. He can feel his eyebrow twitching, stomach curling with anger, while Grisha checks the bodies. The woman's shoulder is practically split in half, her back to the door, so he can't see her face, but blood is still oozing from her wound sluggishly. The man, Mikasa's father, has obviously been stabbed, as apparent by the deep blotch that permeates the middle of his brown vest.

"Eren," Grisha turns, after confirming that the bodies are really all they turn out to be. Dead. "Have you seen the girl?"

Eren shakes his head. No, he hasn't, and it bothers him more than the fact that her parents are lying butchered before them. A seed of resolve plants itself in the pit of his stomach, and he moves towards the bodies. His father doesn't stop him.

Bending down, he reaches towards the man's neck, trying not to think about the puddle of blood currently soaking the undersides of his shoes. His hesitation almost makes him pull back, looking at the pale, bloodless skin before him. He doesn't know what he'd do if he accidentally witnessed another memory besides the one of his death. Something irrational, he supposes.

Biting his lip, he touches a finger tip to the point where the man's pulse had once been, and inhales sharply.

The scene plays out before him.

 _Washing dishes,_ _watching his wife and daughter practice their sewing skills, eyes focused on their work. A knock on the door, not too hard, light enough that it doesn't startle the family. Footsteps, as his point of view shifts to it opening, and darkness, as if he already knows who it is, does not even have to look. "Doctor Yeager, we've been wait-" The voice, so joyful and calming before, cuts off in a strangled gasp, barely audible. Three men before the door, one driving a knife into him. Pain bursts throughout his body, from his abdomen, and he falls back, hits the ground hard. His family's faces are shocked, and he hears something, garbling, it mostly is now, but it's probably one of the mens' voices. His wife, her scream, and his daughter's shaky gasp, is the last thing he hears before darkness drowns him in its pool._

Eren pulls back, hands shaking, eyes wide. He didn't get a clear view of who did this, but the fact remains that it wasn't expected in the least. As he looks at the man, Mikasa's father, the one who died and listened to his family's torture, he thinks that there was nothing he could've done. There was nothing left of him if Eren couldn't gain his revenge, find his missing daughter. 

The thing is, even when viewing one memory at a time, others tend to bleed through. Another drawback of his "gift", as his parents like to call it. This man, he had a dark past, one that Eren couldn't understand with only the undertones of other memories. 

Curious, he raises a hand to run through the father's hair, ginger and soft beneath his fingers. His mind supplies him with the excuse of wanting to sooth the dead, but there's more to it than that. Each brush of his skin against the scalp grace him with other, smaller, less important memories. Even with the feeling of intruding someone else's life, he can't help but not stop. 

_An absent father, never there for his child._

_A promiscuous mother, sleeping around as she pleases, only stopping when she becomes burdened with child. Memories of a pill being taken, waiting a few days, and then resuming her business._

_Three scared children, unattended by their only parent, always being yelled at for mistakes that were never made._

_Escape. Escape from a living hell. Only to delve deeper into another._

_An older brother, fighting to survive, fingers dipped with human blood._

_An older sister, fighting to_ _support them, giving up her body for the money that they need for just one more day._

_A grandfather, taking them in, training them._

_The family business. Murder. Betrayal. More running. The mountains, rough and jagged beneath bare feet._

_Then, peace. A woman, beautiful, as the night sky would be, and in the same situation._

_Starting a family, the joy of a firstborn child, watching her grow into a carbon copy of her mother._

_His brother, back for a hopeful reuniting, only to be received harshly._

_The news of the elder sister, dead, child grown and raised by her brother, alone now in the cruel world. Continuing his life as a thug underground._

_Then, the awful recollection of death, and the sinking darkness behind it._

"Eren?" Grisha, now done examining both bodies, stands beside his son.

Eren looks up at him.

His lips are pursed with what is surely a near reprimand at Eren observing Colin Ackerman's memories without permission. His eyes are cold, staring down at the boy crouching before him, then at his deceased patient and friend. 

It never fails to irk Eren how his father doesn't seem to give a damn. 

Legs wobbly, he stands from beside Colin, weak with the newly gained memories. Even though he had only sat down less than two minutes ago.

"What did you find?" The words are sharp, with a little bit of exasperation behind them.

"There were…three men. I couldn't get a good look at them." 

Grisha sighs, startling Eren, and moves towards the door, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose tiredly. He pauses on the threshold, looks back at his son. His expression is pinched with worry lines and a little bit of grief. 

"Check Usaka. And Eren," At this he pauses, eyes narrowing. "Don't linger this time." The unspoken  _You don't need to dig up old wounds_ stays between them, and then Grisha is leaving, waving behind him with a call of, "I'm going to alert the military police!"

Eren frowns, eyebrows pulled together, and looks towards the much bloodier of the two victims. The woman's dress has soaked up quite a bit of blood, and a couple small flies have already started to gather around the wound, making Eren wrinkle his nose slightly. He's seen things like this before, but he never seems to get used to the reality of what rotting corpses are actually like.

This time, as he gathers his courage for another scourge, ignoring his father's orders, of course, he walks around to the front of the body. The eyes are wide open still, glossy and unblinking in the face of death. He ignores the urge to walk away, right now, leave this woman alone. She was clearly terrified, surprised when she died, but she also fought. There are marks around her wrists, hand prints. The bruises are there against her pale skin, even in death, yellowish and ugly on such a beautiful woman. 

Bending down, Eren does the same as he did with Colin, reaching a hand out, this time with two fingers. His thumb and forefinger touch her eyelids, and he expects a twitch, anything, like he always does when he has to do this type of thing, but she doesn't move. Slowly, and with a grieving heart, he shuts those eyes, dull gray disappearing behind flesh. It's always immensely hard to close a corpse's eyes once open, but this woman's close easily, molding around the eyeball like she's only sleeping. 

He sighs, taking in her memories, closing his own eyes. The life of peace that this woman led the last years of her life was surely enviable to some, and even more heart breaking once the cause of her death is pondered upon. It truly is a tragic end. The absorption started when he made contact, and like always, there is no pull of the soul as there would be when Eren touches a living person. It's gone, passed on, yet Eren has no clue if her soul really is at rest. She could be watching him this very moment, and although he never met the woman, Eren finds that she most likely wouldn't mind him doing this.

When he's done, memories of this woman's whole life sucked into his own soul, he wrenches his hand back. Clenches it tightly.

 _These people didn't deserve to die._  

Standing, emerald eyes alight with the raging flames of a forest fire, Eren takes long strides across the room, to where the kitchen utensils most likely would be.  _Somewhere. They must have one somewhere._ He thinks, rummaging beneath the sink hastily, angrily. He cuts his pinky across something sharp, but he barely notices, the sting only driving him forward.

_Aha!_

Large, gleaming, and freshly sharpened, the cutting board knife rests in his palm. Its weight is easy, light, and comfortable enough in his hand that he wraps his fingers around it tightly, lips curled into an expression of revenge, of hate. His hate fire is burning brightly, his nerves alight with the anticipation, the goal of finding this girl. 

_And using whatever methods necessary to save her from a living hell._

_Screw the Military Police,_ Eren thinks, making his way towards the door in short, determined strides. _Its time somebody was actually saved in time around here.  
_

_\----------------_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha I'm not sorry for the feels attack there with Mikasa's dad. It's so much fun writing this.
> 
> I also enjoy making Levi references, if you can't tell yet.
> 
> Part 3 coming soon!


	5. First Murder, First Sister? Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the Mikasa chapter!
> 
> Eren saves Mikasa, gets a new sister, and a badass backup all at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I've been taking so long on updating! I have a big test coming up for school, so I have been busy with that. This was originally supposed to be one whole chapter, but it would've taken forever to get up, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting too long! 
> 
> This is the final part of the chapter, though, so we will get back on track with other events after this!
> 
> By the way, if there is something specific any of you would like to see in this story, then don't be afraid of commenting or sending me a message.

The sun filtered through the blinds randomly, rays dimmed behind the shield created to keep it from within the building. The rays are colored almost, pink and red and orange. Mikasa thinks she might be seeing purple, but that would be foolish. It's surely only her mind playing tricks on her. The sunsets have never been so numbing before, filling her body with an indifference she has never felt, a sorrow that blocks all her senses. Her thoughts are clouded, eyes staring unblinkingly at the dimming sky.

Such beauty, bright and radiant, appreciated by all those who look upon it. She can almost imagine the townspeople, down in Shiganshina, stopping their daily activities and chores to admire what can never be reached. Children her age never seem to appreciate it the same way Mikasa once did, staring up with awe at the magic of light, of the proof of her life. The proof that she exists. 

Now, Mikasa feels frozen in her existence, as if her being ceased to be the moment her parents fell to their knees in death. It clouds her point of view, thoughts no longer in awe of the magnificent setting happening before her very eyes. The feeling is fleeting, even, lost to her and replaced by fear. It's a dull throb, this fear, pulsing in the very center of her body, sending waves of paralysis throughout her nerve channels. It's sickening. How fast one can lose something most valuable to them and be easily brought into subjugation.

No one is coming to save her. Her parents are gone, subjugated by death itself, unable to return to her. The only company she might keep from now on is her thoughts. And even those are failing as a source of companionship this very moment. 

Vaguely, she wonders if this was how her mother felt when she lost her own family. 

Such loss. Such numbness, buried deep within her bones. She can't even move.

The man sitting by the window huffs, grumbles something about useless partners. Scoffs, says something to the likes of how he would've done the job much better, if they had let him. 

They're going to sell her. This, Mikasa knows. It was the main topic of argument among the strangers on the way to this desolated cabin. She's going to be sold to a nobleman, maybe, in Wall Sina. They would have sold her mother too, had she not been dead. She'll put on a play of servanthood, of submissiveness, the last of her kind. They might even use her the way her aunt was used, though less freely, and without pay. A show. A grand show, was what she had heard a rare nobleman in the area say, once upon a time. He was talking about the women who sold their bodies to others, something Mikasa hadn't understood until her uncle had spoken of it. 

This, though Mikasa played at being naive around her parents, was what she knew was called conception. It was a cause, at the very least. Doctor Yeager had told her once.

Would she become a mother early on, then? Would she be like her aunt? No, she would have even less freedom than her aunt, surely. She doubted she could even hold her child properly after it was born, from what she had heard. She would be pushed back into work. And she would die young, leaving behind one or more children to be raised like slaves in the face of human traffickers, traded around like merchandise.

It's a hopeless situation.

Truly hopeless.

One of the men comes over to talk to the one sitting, and they engage small, heated words that she doesn't bother to catch. It's probably something about her again.

Mikasa's conscience drifts into space.

\-------

_Time passes._

\-------

When she awakes, it's raining. The sunset has disappeared, so Mikasa assumes that it must have passed into one of the murky afternoons customary to the mountains. Perfect for the mood, really.

Her attention span is still shot to all hell, as she imagines her uncle might say, so she doesn't register much more than a  _creak_ as something moves on it's hinges. Most likely a door.

Someone shifts beside her, feet moving in a tense little dance.

“Excuse me.” A small voice, deeper than her own. Most likely a boy. She can tell he’s shy like her, by the way she can hear his words shaking. Or maybe he’s just being cautious around strangers.

 _He should get out of here before he gets hurt_ , Mikasa thinks.

The man who is standing beside her curls his fists tightly, growls in the back of his throat. He moves towards the door in long strides as he speaks. “You goddamn brat! What the hell are you doing here?!”

The door, which Mikasa can only assume was partially opened before, is now fully thrown on its hinges by the man’s fury. It slams against the wall behind it, audibly making the boy cringe by the sound of his squeak.

The boy gulps, his voice taking on a higher, more desperate tone. “I just...I got lost in the forest,” _Run!_ Mikasa’s inner voice supplies, but her muscles ignore her thoughts, her mouth and throat unable to move or make words. She wonders sadly if they’re going to sell him to nobles just like her. “Then I saw your cabin…”

A hand appears above her, making a waving motion, probably some kind of signal to the other.

“That won’t do,” The man by the door takes on a kinder tone of voice. Mikasa has no idea what they’re planning now. “Kids shouldn’t be walking alone in the forest. There are scary wolves out there!”

A pause.

“But don’t worry. We’ll take good care of-” He cuts off abruptly, and Mikasa is reminded of the way her father did the same when stabbed so brutally before. She is almost sent into a state of panic before she realizes that this might be a glimmer of hope. She keeps the hope down to a state of burning coals lest she get too excited.

A squelch of flesh. She doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Thanks mister. I get it…” The boy’s voice has changed. Something bored, blank and frankly intriguing having entered it. There is no longer any hesitance, any nervousness. Its as steady as a tree trunk. “So die already, you worthless shit rag!”

The slice of metal through flesh meets her ears. The sound of a body hitting the floor. She remains still.

Beside her, only until now still sitting in his chair, the other man stands, knocking it over in the process with his haste. “You’re kidding me…”

The door creaks again.

“Stop, you damn brat!” Rushed footsteps, heavy with anticipation of revenge. He picks something up by the door, presumably the axe with which his companion killed Mikasa’s mother.

As he opens the door, Mikasa hears a gasp.

It all happens so fast.

There’s yelling. Lots of it. From the boy. The man’s voice can no longer be heard, smothered by the prepubescent one which raises above it.

Then they’re off to the side of her, where they were once by the door before.

“You fucking bastard!”

The swearing strikes a flame of interest in her, and before she knows it, she’s turning her head towards the commotion on instinct.

Mikasa’s breath stops.

“Drop dead!”

The boy, he’s stabbing her kidnapper. He sits atop him like Mikasa used to with her own father, playfully teasing each other. Except this time, he has a knife, and there is no playfulness in what this boy is doing. He seems to yell the whole time, too.

“It’s only natural! This is what you deserve!”

Mikasa can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. She doesn’t even know this boy.

His eyes. Green as the furs that litter the mountain, light shining through them like the sun’s rays, except they burn in ways she has never seen. They resemble something like the small fireplace her father used to try and make up during the wintertimes, when it was cold and toe-numbing. Those flames, they burn so brightly, but if you tend to them roughly, you get scorched along your skin.

“Never get up again!” So high pitched, so passionate, and the emerald licks of fire that Mikasa catches are at their peak, angry and reaching out to scar, to kill.

She can only stare as he continues to scream and stab the man repeatedly, blood flying upon his clothes and the floor. It’s everywhere by now, but Mikasa has seen so much blood today, and she is disturbed by how used to it she is already.

Eventually, the boy with the fire in his eyes settles into a slow simmer of vibrating anger. His body is still tense, but decidedly more relaxed than when he was on his stabbing spree. As he wipes at his brow with a bloodstained sleeve, he looks over at Mikasa, crimson stained slightly onto his forehead and breathing heavy.

“It’s gonna be okay now. Don’t worry.” His voice is much calmer now, as he removes himself from over the body, and makes his way towards her. As he crouches behind her, helping her into an upright position, he cuts the ropes binding her hands with the bloodied knife, and drops it down a distance beside himself.

The room now stinks like rotting flesh.

The boy’s hands are cool on her wrists as he finishes releasing her from the bonds, and he speaks along casually with her. As if he had not just murdered two people only two minutes ago.

“You’re Mikasa, right? I’m Eren,” He says, then pauses, hesitant. She’s curious as he tenses once more, hands freezing up on the outside of her wrist, before he carries on pulling the pieces of the rope apart. “I’m the son of Doctor Yeager. I’m pretty sure you’ve met my dad before.”

Doctor Yeager. He was supposed to come for her check up earlier today. It makes sense that he would’ve found her parents’ bodies. But where is he?

“We came to visit you so that the two of us could meet, but then…”

Then, a sudden flashback, distant in her mind, but now immediately important to both of them.

“There were three of them.”

Eren freezes behind her, clearly bewildered.

The footsteps are there before they can really prepare themselves. They both turn suddenly at the sound, and standing above them is her third kidnapper.

He looks down at them, equally surprised, but frowns with disdain, and then anger as he takes in his dead comrades.

A beat of silence.

Eren takes action. He reaches for the knife.

But he doesn’t get there.

The man kicks him in the gut, sending him rolling across the surface of the floor, and Mikasa can only watch. Watch as the scene from this morning takes another form, happens again and makes her a spectator with no power whatsoever.

_Why does this happen to her?_

Eren struggles to get up as the man passes her, and clutches at his stomach where he was kicked.

“Did you do this?” The man asks, voice low and dangerous. It rises quickly to a crescendo of a yell, as he picks Eren up by the hair and places his hands around the boy’s scrawny neck. “Did you kill them?! Was it you?!”

Mikasa’s body is shaking now. She can’t control it, as she is so unbelievably terrified for this boy. Eren, who is only a month younger than her, whom the man has no qualms about murdering as if he would an adult.

“I’ll kill you! I’m gonna fucking butcher you!”

He can’t breath, fighting for air and scratching uselessly at the man’s hands. Although his eyes are shocked for a split second, and they’re pained as they swivel around to her, the fire is still there, focused on her own dim ones.

Eren struggles for words for a moment, until they finally come out strained and barely loud enough for her to hear. “Fight! You must fight!”

Mikasa gasps, voice failing her as he continues his encouragement, the pleas to save their lives.

“If you win, you live,” Another pained struggle for breath as the man’s hands keep squeezing the air out of him. Drool trickles slightly at the corner of his mouth. “If you lose, you die.”

“What the hell were you thinking, brat?!”

“If you don’t fight, you can’t win!”

Her whole body shakes as she reaches for Eren’s knife, stands on unsteady legs. She holds it in both hands, unable to keep her fear from taking over.

“I...can’t do it.” She whispers pitifully.

Her eyes are wide, stuck staring at the boy she only just met, as the life is drained out of him. His hands drop to his sides, no longer able to pull at his oppressor’s own, to stop his suffocation.

Then, time seems to stop.

She remembers what she has seen before. This very scene, indeed, over and over again, repeatedly occurring around her. She just never knew it. It was always there, always right in front of her as it happened. The pretence of ignoring it was constant in her life, though.

_That’s right._

_This world is...merciless._

Mikasa stills. Her fear abides, her limbs no longer shaking uncontrollably.

_It is a cruel world._

She feels as if she now has complete control of her body. A sharp set of pulses seem to reverberate throughout her whole self, shocking her spine, her limbs, her brain. Her hands are steady on the knife as she holds it in her palms.

She feels as if she could achieve anything.

_Fight…_

Her eyes widen, feet shifting beneath her.

_Fight…_

Strengths surges throughout her, the handle of the knife splinters in her hand. She feels and hears the floorboards crack beneath her feet.

“Fight!”

Mikasa raises the weapon beside her head.

A screech arises from her throat as she rushes the man from behind, knife poised to kill.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I'll most likely do a flashback of the famous scarf scene in another chapter. I know that was another part you guys might've been looking forward to, but I promise I'll get it in soon. I just really needed to get this up! 
> 
> (I might make some more edits to it later if I find bad grammar btw.)
> 
> Also, first Levi appearance in the next chapter!


	6. Meet Isabel Magnolia, Thug and Cousin Extraordinaire Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren meets his cousin for the first time, as well as a new face that he'll be seeing a lot more of in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is really crappy, and I'm sorry about that. I'll edit it more tomorrow. 
> 
> But, Levi is in this one! So yay! And I just really needed Isabel and Eren being cousins.

When Eren is five, one year after meeting Armin and four before he meets Mikasa, he meets his cousin.

Carla had insisted that Grisha let the mother and son duo make a trip down to the underground city with him. He’s going on business anyways, and it wouldn’t hurt to take them along once in awhile. They can’t stay cooped up in that stifling town forever.

Grisha had argued fervently with Eren’s mother for nearly an hour. Their yelling could be heard from outside, where Eren played with Armin along the stones aligning their front pathway.

Few people passed this way unless to get to their own homes, since it was an area that was closely packed with residences, and many were out doing their jobs this time of day anyways. So, not many people to startle at the harsh shouts that emitted from the Yeager household, nor many to cast nervous glances towards the son nonchalantly playing war games with his best friend.

Armin, after a year of being Eren’s best friend, was used to the commotion that was common in the household. Grisha Yeager, although known as a gentle and devoted doctor, was a stubborn man, heart cold and often detached when something usually inciting such sentimental emotions occurred. His wife, Carla, was known to be even more so. Her values were much different than his, one might admit, heart more tender and caring than her husband’s, but she had her bouts of hard headedness.

This was one of those times when the two parents’ personalities clashed. Sparks flew, burning all those who came close.

Ah yes, such normalcy.

Eren, on the other hand, being young and still used to obeying his mother whole heartedly, had yet to inherit any kind of stubbornness that his parents might pass along to him.

In the end, his mother won the argument.

The tears tracks still visible along her cheeks meant she had pulled out her trump card.

Grisha sat at the dinner table afterwards, irritable and much less talkative than he usually was. Which still wasn’t much. Carla sat opposite him, posture poised and victorious, and very defiant, as she ate the small piece of chicken she’d managed to barter for at the market that morning.

Armin and Eren also sat opposite of each other, shooting glances towards each other occasionally and giggling at the silly way Eren’s mother was sitting. They barely bothered to hide their childish grins, cheeks still flushed from playing tag outside only five minutes ago.

“Eren.” His mother says, turning towards him now, from beside him. He looks up at her, still grinning, piece of chicken being chewed between his teeth. Carla cringes a little at the way he opens his mouth at every bite.

“Yes, Mommy?” Eren asks, tilting his head curiously. His words are muffled a little by his food.

“In two days, your father is going to take us with him on an appointment down to the Underground City.” She tells him, lips turning up at the way Eren starts to bounce in his seat.

“Really? Really? Are we really going to the Underground City, Dad?” The unswallowed food in his mouth almost falls out, but Carla catches it with her hand before it does, and pinches her son on the ear as an admonishment.

Grisha sighs, clearly defeated from their earlier argument. “Yes, son. We are."

Carla swears that Eren’s smile almost splits his face in half. His emerald eyes are bright with excitement.

“And, we’ll be going to see your cousin while we’re down there.”

If possible, this seems to rally Eren up even more. He practically jumps into a standing position atop his chair, looking down at his mother, and glancing towards Armin with gleeful little squeals of delight.

“I have a cousin?!”

Carla chuckles. “Yes, sweetie, you do. Now sit back down before you hurt yourself. Then we wouldn’t be able to see her.”

Across the table, Grisha stands, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. He pointedly looks at his wife, avoiding the eyes of his son. “When we’re down there, you two are to be as careful as possible. I can’t have you getting mugged. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a patient waiting for me.” With this, he grabs his coat from the rack and makes his way towards the door.

From beside him, Eren’s mother sighs frustratedly. She stares as her husband slams the door against the frame, and flinches slightly at the noise. When she turns back to her son, Carla brings a hand up to smooth against Eren’s cheek, expression ingrained with a barely decipherable sadness.

“Um,” Armin says, finally speaking up. He looks between them nervously, hands twisting in his lap. “Grandfather is probably waiting for me, as well, Mrs. Yeager.”

Carla looks back at him, face now more gentle and kind. She smiles at him, removing her hand from Eren’s cheek and standing, smoothing her apron in the process. “Of course, Armin. I’ll send Eren to walk you home.”

\--------------

The trip to the entrance of the underground city takes half a day by itself, Eren’s father tense and quiet throughout the whole journey. They don’t have a horse that they could use for a faster trip, so they’re stuck on foot.

Eren complains every other moment of the blisters forming on the balls of his feet.

Of course, Carla carries him for part of the journey, as a result of this. He’s only five after all.

To even get there on time, without the guards becoming suspicious of their motives, the family had to leave early that morning. Another cause of complaint for the youngest member. The patient is expecting Dr. Yeager later in the evening, anyways, for their regular check up.

Usually, Grisha stays in the Underground City for a total of a week, under normal circumstances. Many residents are in need of a good doctor, legs weak and withering from lack of sunlight. He’s seen plenty of patients who have lost mobility in their legs, unable to pay for proper treatment, and slowly dying out of depression. Now, with his family accompanying him and no one to worry about back home, he supposes he might stay longer.

Eren is excited for a change of scenery, Carla anticipating seeing her niece for the first time in a long time. Miraculously, in the two days it took to prepare for the trip, the young girl who they’re supposed to meet had replied back to the letter Carla sent ahead of time, location of her abode enclosed. Along with an invitation to stay with her as to avoid any trashy landlords.

Such a wonderful response has made Carla in high spirits since.

“You know, your cousin had such long, beautiful red hair when she was a little girl. She got it from her father, not so much my sister. My family has always had such dark brown hair and tan skin,” She tells Eren, pinching his nose playfully. He squeals, batting her hands away. “Just like a little rascal I know.”

Eren laughs, high pitched and childlike, as his mother moves on to tickle his feet while she holds him against her chest.

“Mommy, stop!” The young boy is gasping, trying to regain his breath. Both mother and son’s eyes are alight with mirth. Their gleefulness brings a slight smile to Grisha’s lips.

“We’re here, you two.” Grisha says, turning to look at them both. Eren’s face is buried in the crook of Carla’s shoulder, giggling, while his mother beams at her husband.

He turns back to the soldier, part of the stationary guard, on duty, and hands him their passes. They’d been approved only yesterday, when Grisha met with a member of the military police outside of work. The woman had owed him several favors, after treating her sick son in his times of need.

“Business?” The soldier asks, glancing behind Grisha to look at his family, still playfully messing around. He raises an eyebrow and returns his gaze to the doctor.

“I’ll be treating patients, as a certified doctor. Those two will be visiting family.” He responds, taking back their passes.

“How long will you be staying?”

“That has yet to be determined.”

“You have a resident you are staying with, then?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Please pass through, both you and your family.”

“Thank you.”

Grisha spares the soldier little more of a glance before he motions for his wife to move, Eren still in her arms. She catches up to him as she starts down the stairs, coming up next to him.

“Stay close to me. At all times, Carla.”

Carla nods, placing a hand on Eren’s back. The boy is still laughing uncontrollably, small arms wrapped around his mother’s neck.

Now, as they make their way down the darkened stairwell, the air becomes stuffy, and their eyes adjust slowly. It’s hard to breath for a second, and a smell hits their noses, stale and slightly pungent. It smells of garbage and molding food.

Eren plugs his nose when they get to the bottom and shuts his eyes tightly.

People line the walls leading to the staircase, legs tangled together in front of them. For some, it’s hard to tell if they’re even alive, by the way they barely move. Those who do move reach out to them with harrowed fingers, bony and clearly the result of malnourishment.

Carla keeps her hand pressed against her son’s back, for his support and her own.

“It clears up once you get out into the open, don’t worry.”

Carla is skeptical of this.

But miraculously, it does clear up. The smell of rotting garbage and food is not so pungent as it was in the stairwell, and eventually their noses get used to it.

As they step foot onto the worn beginnings of a street, Eren peeks his head out once again, now able to endure the feeling of the air that resides in the Underground City. Large emerald globes take in their surroundings, and Eren squirms helplessly, causing Carla a need to set him down, lest she drop him.

His small feet carry him further along the street as they walk, his parents monitoring him from behind. Once in awhile, Grisha will remind Eren to stay close, if he gets too far ahead or acts like he might run off to explore the newfound area.

Suddenly, when Eren turns a corner too abruptly, he runs straight into a person’s legs.

Carla rushes to his side, helping him up from the ground and dusting her son off, as the boy rubs his behind. The fall had certainly taken him by surprise, and it made him slightly annoyed at being so short.

The person whom he had run into, a young girl with short red hair tied up in pigtails, exclaims in surprise when Eren runs into her. She immediately helps Carla to make sure he’s okay, apologizing several times.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” She says, and stands nearby as Carla finishes. “Didn’t see you coming there, little bro. Are ya okay?”

Eren looks up at her, eyebrows furrowed, mouth turned down into a frown.

What he sees are forest green jewels staring down at him worriedly.

“Eren?” Carla asks from beside him, prompting him to nod dazedly back at the young woman standing over him.

The red haired girl smiles brightly at him when she knows he’s okay, face lighting up like the sun. It almost leaves Eren stunned, because it’s so similar to his mother’s smile.

“Eren, huh? I’m Isabel.” She says, whipping a hand out for Eren to shake. He does so, timidly and much shier than before. One small memory passes behind his eyelids of helping an injured bird, and he pulls his hand away like he’s been burned. Isabel gives him an odd look. “Nice to meet ya.”

“Isabel? Isabel Magnolia?” Carla is standing now, eyes wide as she stare down at the girl. She’s several inches taller by comparison, and Isabel looks almost tiny next to her.

Isabel turns her head over to Eren’s mother in surprise, eyes wide. A flash of recognition sparks in them, as she tilts her head to the side curiously like a dog.

“Do I know you?” She asks, clearly trying to place where she has seen the woman before.

“It’s Carla. Your aunt. I sent you that message two days ago?”

If possible, Isabel’s face lights up even more in glee.

“Aunt Carla! Oh wow!” She says, dashing over to give Carla a hug. “Been such a long time! I didn’t even recognize ya!”

The older woman chuckles, squeezing the smaller girl around her waist affectionately. “You’ve certainly grown, Isabel. And you’re as lively as ever. Have you been getting along well, down here?”

Pulling back, Isabel nods excitedly. Eren continues to stare at the spectacle taking place before him.

_This is his cousin?_

“You betcha! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Eren right away, ya know. He looks so much like a Magnolia it’s not hard ta tell he’s related to me.” She says, looking down at her cousin.

“Oh, yes. Eren certainly takes after our side of the family.”

“Isabel,” Grisha interrupts, coming over to stand behind his son. “It’s nice to see you again. I hope your friend has been well.”

Isabel practically jumps with excitement. “Is this your husband, Carla?” Smiling, Carla nods. “Really?! Dr. Yeager treated big bro when he came down here last, ya know. Really saved us from draining our expenses. Big bro woulda had a fit if we had ta get a military police soldier to help us out, too.”

“Oh, really? I had no idea,” At this she spares her husband a glare that means we’ll talk later. “What’s this about a ‘big bro’, now?”

Isabel claps her hands together, turning and walking slowly so as to let them follow her. “I’ll tell ya all about him on the way there. I’ll even introduce ya to ‘im.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Isabel. I have a patient waiting for me,” Grisha says, expression full of regret. “I will meet up with you later tonight, if you will.”

Raving to go, as seems her default mode, is what Isabel specializes in. She presents the doctor with an upwards thumb, still cheerful despite his sudden retreat. “Gotcha!”

With that, they go their separate ways.

\-----------------

When Eren strolls into what is to be his home for an undetermined amount of time, he isn’t expecting what he gets.

The whole place is spotless. Cleaned from head to toe. The job is even better than when his mother completes her weekly cleaning spree of their home in Shiganshina.

Eren can’t even imagine the time Isabel puts into making it this way. He knows that his mother practically takes all day to clean, so what is it like here?

“My goodness, Isabel. You didn’t tell me how clean it was!” Carla exclaims, dropping her bags by her feet. When she starts into the room, Isabel stops her, along with Eren.

“That’s Levi’s doing. You gotta take your shoes off before you come in, too, or else big bro will have a fit.”

“Is Levi a clean freak?” Eren asks, loudly and out of the blue. He’d learnt the term from Armin after he had described his mother as one, once. It’s the first he’s really spoken to Isabel, and it makes his cousin blink in surprise. Thankfully, she only smiles and bends down more to speak to him.

When she motions him closer, Eren moves, and she presses her cupped hands around his ear. “Levi is a biiiiiiig clean freak, little bro. But don’t tell him I said that.” She whispers, and Eren giggles.

“No need to keep it a secret, brat, because _I can fucking hear you_.”

At this, Isabel cringes, and grins ruefully at her cousin before standing. When Eren peers around her legs, he sees another man, grumpy looking and perching in the doorway of what seems to be a bedroom. The man’s eyes are slanted, almost bored, and his face is fixed in an expression of hostility, which throws Eren off a little.

But, what really strikes Eren isn’t how angry looking he is.

The man is _really pretty_.

“Ah, Levi-bro, you know I was just teasing you.” Isabel says, smirking at the other resident of the household. Levi glares at her hotly.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Isabel laughs. Carla looks skeptical, eyes sliding between the two friends, until they fix on Eren. The boy seems mesmerized with Levi, emerald eyes wide as he grips at Isabel’s tights and tries to hide behind her legs at the same time.

“Levi-bro, this is my Aunt Carla. She’ll be visiting with us for a while, remember?”

Levi nods towards the woman, who offers a kind smile back. “Nice to meet you, Carla.”

When Levi looks toward Eren, the boy shrinks back.

“Who’s the kid? Your cousin, I presume?”

Isabel nods, reaches back to ruffle Eren’s hair, smiling.

“This is Eren. Eren, this is Levi,” She says, then pauses. “The clean freak.”

“Oi!”

“What? It’s true!”

“That doesn’t mean you get to fucking shout it out for the world to hear!”

“What do you care anyways? The news has already spread throughout the whole neighborhood, you know.”

“I don’t care. I would just rather go without the reminder.”

“Well, obviously you do care, or else you-”

“You’re really pretty!”

All heads in the room swivel to the five year old hiding behind his cousin’s legs. His face is hidden in a poor attempt at being invisible, and he’s obviously embarrassed at his outburst. His cheeks are tinted a bright red, and the adorableness of the moment makes his mother smile.

Levi narrows his eyes, presses his lips together. He stares at the kid behind Isabel’s legs, aiming to catch his those emerald orbs. Do something intimidating maybe. But Eren doesn’t move.

Eventually, Levi sighs tiredly.

“I’ll go get Farlan. You show Carla to her room.”

“Yes, sir!”

Then, Levi leaves them there, crossing the room to another door, after closing his own, and shuts it behind him.

Eren thinks he might just be imagining it, but he thinks he hears Levi mumbling something under his breath.

Something that sounds suspiciously like _that brat is too damn cute for his own good_ before the door cuts him off.


	7. Meet Isabel Magnolia, Thug and Cousin Extraordinaire Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of watching the Yeagers, reuniting with Isabel after all this time, is the pang in his gut that he'll never have the same experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's been so long! I'm so sorry for not posting sooner! There are so many distractions around me that I tend to get sidetracked. 
> 
> Anyway, after editing and rewriting this chapter over and over again, I think I finally settled on something. Enjoy your Levi POV for this chapter, and again, I'm sorry for the prolonged wait and the separation of this fic into multiple pieces. 
> 
> Unrelated and super late though, Merry Christmas (or happy Hannukah or whatever holiday you celebrate this time of year, even if it's none) and a Happy New Year!

What was with him today? And what was with this family?

He hadn't seen Isabel this happy since the time he stole some of that imported dessert for her - _chocolate,_ it was called- on her birthday two years ago. Or, what she  _thought_ was her birthday. She _had_  just kind of randomly came out of the blue with it one day, mentioning it as an afterthought.  _  
_

But her  _smile._ The younger woman's face had absolutely lit up like a newly kindled flame in there, looking down at her tiny cousin with what was unmistakably deep affection. It irked Levi that she hadn't smiled like that nearly as enough as he thought she needed to. 

Those first days, especially. Right after he found her.

He was just a teenager then, a kid who had no one else to look after, no one to be looked after by. He was on his own. It made sense that he'd seek out someone who was weaker than him, who could act as his makeshift family in place of the one he lost. 

And Isabel was just like him. Lost in a world behind walls and dying inside of loneliness. She'd lost more than she really let on, nowadays. But back then, she looked just as lost as she really was, and her eyes were often blank with lack of emotion or thought. She rarely talked, not even to Levi, and didn't bother trying to smile. 

Levi remembers, in those early days, the sickness that swarmed through her head, wiping all coherence from her mind. Her eyes had been blank with a scarred past then, too, as he wiped her brow and fed her lukewarm bowls of bland stew. The emerald orbs barely focused on him when he spoke to her, rarely ever actually understanding what he was trying to communicate. Her pale skin, clammy with sweat and void of healthy coloring had had him on the edge of his chair for weeks, unable to go to a doctor for help in fear of being recognized for his reputation and distinct looks. 

Neither him nor Isabel had gotten any sleep those few weeks, her plagued by night terrors and him staying awake to sooth them away and prevent her fever from spiking too high. It was all he could do. Her screams kept him up during the night, enough to wake up even the deepest of sleepers. He still remembers hugging her body close to his, taller than him at the time, petting her hair softly. The names she had called in her sleep, none of them he recognized, were clearly people close to her, maybe those she had lost. 

He knows how she felt. He'd lost too many people to the sickness and violence of the underground not to. 

As he makes his way up the rickety wooden steps to the upper level of the building, where Farlan had situated himself and served as a general lookout for the whole group, he thinks on his own family. He barely remembers his mother, let alone any other relatives. His young mother had never elaborated on what had really happened with his father, never told her innocent son that she actually didn't know who his other parent was. Levi had figured it out though, what with his loss of innocence the day Kenny had taken him in, explained bluntly to him his mother's circumstances. 

Kenny was…the closest he ever got to having a father. He was gone too. Disappeared. But it's not like Levi is overly eager to find him, anyway.

And the fact that Isabel still has family out there, now here and visiting her as family should, it makes him happy for her. For the chance that she gets to spend time with familiar faces without having to worry about them betraying her like most of the people you'd consider "family" in the underground are wont to do. But there is something slightly melancholy about the whole thing.

The hardest part of watching the Yeagers, reuniting with Isabel after all this time, is the pang in his gut that he'll never have the same experience.

He comes upon the final step in the narrow staircase, preparing himself as he raises his hand to knock upon the plain wooden door before him. Farlan can always hear when someone is coming up (the main reason why Levi has even allowed these creaky as shit stairs in his home), and he always prepares himself in case of an intruder. It would be unfortunate of an intruder to even attempt to break in anyway, since he knows Farlan stays right by his collection of knives whenever he hears the stairs' signal. 

And they'd have to be the best of the best to even get past Levi at all, but not without a few broken ribs and most likely an ear or hand missing. 

He has a special knock though, one to alert Farlan that its him, one that they change every month or so to avoid eavesdroppers attempting a clever little masquerade. Knock once, wait three seconds, knock three times in quick succession. That simple.

He does so, waits patiently for the other man to bring down his defenses, and straightens into a posture of indifference as the door swings open. 

And there he stands, sandy blond hair streaked with brown, clear, calculating blue eyes gazing down at him nonchalantly. His arms are crossed against his chest, seemingly relaxed as he leans against the doorframe. But Levi knows that he's hiding one of his knives under his armpit, not just from the way the lamp light glints suspiciously against the blade onto the door, but also from the way Farlan is secretly digging one of his feet into the ground in case he suddenly needs to charge Levi.

Which, you know, wouldn't be the first time. 

Levi doesn't trust people easily, if you haven't picked that up yet. 

Safe to say, Levi has pulled a knife on him before and Farlan is therefore rightfully wary of him doing it again.

This time though, it's not his reason for coming. Isabel is genuinely happy for the first time in a long time, and he isn't gonna let himself or Farlan ruin that.

"See anything?" He asks, instead, using it as an icebreaker. 

Farlan's lips press together into a thin line.

"No."

"I see." 

Silence.

"Is something up?" Farlan asks, because Levi usually gets straight to the point. This is unlike him.

"Yeah," He says, mimicking his comrade and crossing his arms. "Isabel has family downstairs. She wants you to come and meet them because they'll be staying with us for an indefinite amount of time."

"Family? Do you mean the people she's been sending those letters to, all this time?" 

Of course. _Very observant, Farlan. It's not like she's been going on about it for weeks already. But never mind, because you generally don't pay attention anyways._

_"_ Come downstairs and find out."

He turns away from the other man, displaying his back to him in a sign of peace.

Farlan sighs. "Alright, then."

~~~~~~~~~

Isabel and the Yeagers are settled on the couches when they arrive back down. 

Carla sits comfortably next to her niece, chatting calmly about things that only women are sure to chat about. Eren sits on the opposite couch, shifting slightly as he sits plop in the middle of the couch, back straight and tense in an unfamiliar environment. He seems small then, trying to disappear and gain as little attention as possible as his mother and cousin talk.

This, purposely, is where Levi sits as well. He gracefully slides in next to the boy, startling him to the point where he flinches away from the older man as he wraps his arm across the top of the couch. Those wide green emeralds stare up at him, and he stares coolly back, unsmiling and observant. He raises one delicately groomed eyebrow at the younger.

Eren cocks his head in response.

Something in Levi's chest blooms with warmth. 

He's vaguely aware of introductions happening before him, but he pays no real attention even as Farlan introduces himself to Eren and the boy turns his eyes reluctantly away. Farlan aims to shake the boy's hand, but surprisingly, Eren stares down at his outstretched hand frightfully. 

At first Levi thinks he's afraid of the germs (perfectly reasonable, in Levi's head; hands carry plenty of bacteria that can cause sickness), like he himself is, but then he thinks its something else, as Farlan reassures him that he washed his hands, having the same thought as Levi, and Eren still shakes his head fearfully. 

"Ah," Carla is clearly witnessing the scene and trying to figure out how to resolve the situation, but is obviously struggling to come up with an explanation. "Eren…is uncomfortable touching peoples' skin, sometimes. Especially strangers. I apologize."

Levi spares a look at Isabel, but she seems lost as well. Eren had done fine earlier, when he'd been practically hanging off of his cousin. Why wasn't he acting like the spritely child Levi had originally witnessed?

Farlan, even though he is still confused, backs away politely and sits on the other side of Isabel. "Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't know, Eren." He gives the boy a gentle smile, nodding reassuringly. 

Eren smiles back, tiny and barely there, and proceeds to further shrink into himself once again. 

_This brat sure is a_ _curious little thing,_ Levi thinks. 

"Ah, Levi-bro, Aunt Carla and I were jus' talkin' about the sleeping arrangements," Isabel interrupts his thoughts, breaking the building tension in the room as well. "D'you already have those figured out or what?"

Levi looks at her, finally prying his cool grey stare off of Eren, and finds another pair of curious leaf green eyes. "No," he says, even though he should have those planned out already. Mentally, he curses himself for not planning better, and for the fact that they only have one guest bedroom (which is rarely ever used due to the fact that usually anyone who is invited in isn't trusted enough to have their hosts' backs turned to them) and one bed. "Someone could sleep on the couch though."

Carla makes a noise in the back of her throat similar to a hum, and aims a pitiful face towards her son.

"Eren is still in that stage where he likes to sleep in the same room as someone. You don't think the guest bed is big enough for all three of us?" She asks him, hopeful. 

He frowns, thoughtful, but shakes his head. "Unfortunately, the bed we have is small as fuck. It's only just big enough for you and your husband."

"And Isabel kicks when she sleeps," Farlan mentions, which is followed by a slap upside the head from the redhead next to him. "My bed is too small for two people as well. Even if it _is_ just a kid."

In the silence that follows, all heads turn towards Levi. 

"What? You're suggesting that the brat sleeps in _my_ fucking bed?" He asks, slightly appalled at the thought of the grimy head of hair laying on his pillow, as well as the problem that surely comes along with a child so young.

_Bedwetting._

"Your bed is the most favorable option here, Levi," Farlan points out, always the reasonable one. Apparently. 

" _And_ it's clean. There's no risk of my little cuz here gettin' sick," Isabel is clearly trying to hold back her laughter, smirk still plain as day on her  _smug little face._

Levi can feel his eye twitching slightly in annoyance. He does not want to risk his bed _getting pissed in by a little brat who doesn't even like people touching him._

So far, Eren is saying nothing, only looking up at the older man with those large emeralds like an innocent little puppy who wants to be picked up. He isn't sure if that look is winning anything in the kid's favor so far, but the little warm feeling in his chest is back. Which-is probably sign that it  _is_ working. 

As a final effort, Carla speaks up, reaching out to touch her son's hair. "I know it wouldn't be much convenience to you, Levi, but please. Eren will be absolutely terrified if he has to sleep alone out here. He's still very young. And I have a feeling that you will take him, seeing that you were kind enough to even let us, complete strangers, stay in your home." She sends one last pleading glance towards him, ruffling Eren's hair and making the boy giggle. 

_Well, fuck me in the ass._

He sighs, eye still twitching, and reaches a hand up to cover it. "Fine. But I won't tolerate any  _fucking bed wetting_ , brat."

Eren's eyes go wide, and his face lights up with a grin so wide that it threatens to get stuck that way permanently. 

_(_ Privately, Levi kind of wishes that it does.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grisha arrives late that night, just before everyone is about to retire. 

There's still some leftover soup, bland and tasteless in Levi's opinion, but Farlan had insisted it was supposed to be that way. The herbs he bought didn't give much flavor, but were great for a late night dinner just before bed. Grisha takes it with grace, eating it without a hint of displeasure-which is a mighty achievement in Isabel's opinion, seeing that she cringed throughout all of dinner. Eren as well, complained to his mother that the soup was gross.

But-well, Grisha might just not mind because he's too damn tired to care. Evidently, it had been a long day of work for him, and boy does Levi get it. There's a reason no one from above ground comes to sightsee in the underground city. Too much sickness, too much of a risk of getting mugged and having your body dumped in the streets for the military police to find. Generally, it was much too depressing for a lot of people to stomach. 

Farlan introduces himself to the doctor, sharing greetings and 'oh, I remember now's. They seem to get along fine, making small talk on the couches while Levi cleans the meager dishes in their home, and Eren attempts to help. The kid isn't half bad, to be honest.

From the bucket of washing water, he can hear the two men speaking about Grisha's patients for the day. And although the doctor doesn't divulge much to Farlan due to a principle of confidentiality for his patients, he gets the gist out that it was pretty bad.

Once again, Levi is reminded of finding Isabel, on the verge of death and scarred by her past.

He shakes the thought out of his mind before it festers and ruins the remainder of his mood. 

Without much sunshine down in the underground (and by much, he means none), and the inability to visit the above ground when needed, people living here tend to lose mobility in their legs. It was one of the most prominent problems, people losing the ability to walk and function like what other people do. 

He considered himself lucky that he hadn't had the same experience, choosing to stay active and exercise before he got the chance. 

Looking down at Eren (who is fruitlessly scrubbing a bowl with unnecessary pressure and making his tiny hands red; it's just soup, honestly kid), he thinks of all the other children who were not as lucky, and contracted the sickness at the same age as the boy, or even earlier. It makes his heart soften towards them every time he sees it, but hardens it towards the pigs above ground who aren't even lifting a finger in an effort to help them.

Just another reason why he strongly detests the military police and their fucking government.

Eren finally finishes giving the soup bowl a beating with the soap, and reaches up to replace it in the small cupboard above their heads. Unfortunately, he is  _way_ too short, and fails to reach it by a few feet. Also unfortunate, Levi is not much help in this area (Farlan purposely built the cupboard high on the wall to prevent Isabel from having any midnight snacks, and by extension Levi as well) and once again he curses his small stature. He shoots a glance over his shoulder at Farlan, but he is locked into his conversation-Eren is jumping now, goddammit-and Carla, the other tall person besides the busy men, is conversing with Isabel.

And he especially doesn't feel like being made fun of, again, if he interrupts any of them.

So, waving a mental white flag, he looks down at Eren again and sets down the bowl he himself was working on. 

_There's no other fucking option,_ Levi reminds himself. He reaches down towards the kid, grabbing him around his clothed legs with both hands, and lifts. 

At first, Eren is surprised, a small squeak resembling a startled rat coming from his mouth, and wobbles a bit as Levi tries to hold him steady.  _He's light,_ is the first thought that comes to mind at holding him, but it doesn't much raise concern. He _is_ pretty young, still. Eren chances a glimpse down at him while his legs are at about Levi's chest, grasping that bowl like a lifeline now, and opens his mouth to speak.

"Just put the fucking bowl in the cupboard, brat. I'll fucking drop you if you don't do it in this century," He threatens before Eren can say anything, and the swearing seems to get the point across to the kid, because he nods back frantically in understanding and turns back around. Levi continues lifting him, aware that he's not even breaking a sweat with this feat, and eventually Eren places the bowl in the cupboard.

As Levi goes to set him down though, Eren immediately starts protesting. 

"Wait! I wanna fly more!" Comes the small voice, high in indignity at the thought of being put back onto the ground. 

Eren's face is now at eye level, and Levi raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the demand. His hard grey eyes seem to stare into Eren's soul, and the boy looks down shyly. 

"Please, Levi-bro?" The nickname is said even more quietly, just barely loud enough for Levi to hear, but it causes him to raise both of his eyebrows this time in surprise. 

"Why?" He asks bluntly, instead of correcting the kid about his name. If he stopped Eren, then he'd have to stop Isabel too, and he doesn't think he wants to ruin that little bit of happiness in her heart. 

_Besides, you like it,_ a voice that sounds mysteriously like Kenny says in his head. 

It takes a few seconds for Eren to come up with an answer, but eventually he mumbles, "I wanna be like the flying men." 

Okay, Levi is very confused. 

"Flying men?" Levi asks, eyebrows drawing together in thought.  _I swear, if this kid is fucking playing me_ _…_

"Yeah!" Eren says, uncharacteristically bright again before he sinks back in shyness. "Like mister Hannes. With the 'three dim…dimen…dimon…damens…tonal…tinal-'"

"The three-dimensional maneuver gear?" He suggests, before the kid hurts himself trying to say it. Levi has no idea who Hannes or whatever is, but he assumes that he's in the military at least.

"Yeah!" He says again, happy that Levi knows what it is. 

"Why the fuck do you want to be like those military police pigs?" He says harshly, still holding Eren, but now at a distance away from him.

At this, Eren tilts his head confusedly. "I don't," He says, matter-of-factly.

"But you want to fly around on those stupid fucking wires like them?" The fact that the military police uses them isn't really the only reason Levi detests using the gear. His mentor, and the man who practically raised him and abandoned him, taught him as a child how to use the 3D Maneuver Gear, for questionable purposes. He has been reluctant to use it again since Kenny left, choosing to move around on foot from then on since he was pretty fast by himself, but he's not against the invention itself. Just the  _dumb as shit_ bastards who use it for their own selfish purposes. 

Eren's face screws up in thought, hands resting hesitatingly on the sleeves of Levi's shirt (wow, he really _doesn't_ like touching people). "What about birdies, though?"

" _What_ about fucking birds?"

The kid makes a pouty face, bottom lip sticking out and eyes hooded. "They seem like they're happy…"

Levi had been poised to say something again, but upon hearing the small remark he snaps his mouth shut. Such sadness, even if it is one of those tricks kids have to get you to do something that they want, and it's pitiful to even see something resembling Eren's expression right now.

Levi thinks he knows how Carla feels now.

He sighs tiredly, schooling his expression into one of indifference.

"Alright, you little brat. But just this once and then no more asking for shit." He says, but something tells him that Eren doesn't really care about the warning hidden in his voice. His face has lit up again and  _that smile is back_. 

Tensing his muscles, he lifts Eren high enough in the air that he can stretch out all of his limbs. His arms go out to his sides like a bird's wings, and the kid is  _giggling._

_Dammit, why is this brat so adorable._

Levi brings him back down again, and when he shoots his arms up this time he also launches Eren into the air just above his hands, and catches his small body. His own mother used to do this sometimes, when he was younger and she was healthier. He had always been a small child, so it was easy for her. In his circumstances, even if Eren was so light, Levi could still probably do it if he was heavier, because he'd acquired a strength that most men didn't have.

For the first time in a long while, he feels something akin to glee.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, after doing this a few more times, Eren's constant stream of childish laughter catches Carla's attention, and she looks away from her conversation to check on her son. The sight that she is greeted with is an unlikely one, indeed.

Eren, giggling and having fun being propelled into the air.

And Levi, the one doing the propelling, a rare smile in place upon his lips. 

Isabel chuckles beside her, and she looks over at her niece to see a fond expression in those emerald eyes. 

"Big bro sure is nice to play with Eren," The redhead says, and Carla turns back to the scene before them.

Her eyebrows pull together in thought.

For some reason, Levi doesn't seem like the type of man to deal with children easily, or really, at all. But, maybe…Maybe he isn't as tough looking and cold hearted as he seems. He  _did_ take in Isabel when her mother left, and has taken care of her until now. Perhaps…"Yes, it does look like that, doesn't it?"

The corners of her lips turn up into a smile reflecting that of her son's and the man who cares enough to be kind to him.

_Yes, indeed._

~~~~~~~~~

That night, while everyone else has retired to bed, Eren sits atop Levi's blanket and combs his fingers through his hair. It's only slightly grimy, not so much so that his mother will nag him in the morning, which makes Eren able to get away with it, but he thinks Levi doesn't really like it, by the look on his face. 

He'll take a bath tomorrow then, even if his mother doesn't say anything. 

Levi changes before him, unworried about the fact that Eren is staring, and wipes himself down with a wet rag before putting on his pajamas. He briefly spares Eren a few glances, just to check if the kid is doing anything suspicious, but otherwise he keeps his gaze on what he is doing. It's just some old pants that Kenny once stole off of one of his victims (Levi still washes these things more than the rest of his clothes out of habit and fear of decomposers), and one of his mother's shirts from that she gave to him as makeshift clothes, but he considers them important and useful reminders of  his past. 

After changing into them, he pulls the covers back and climbs into bed, trying to adjust to the cold sheets. It's always been cold at night in the underground city, even during the scorching summer heat. He has his back to Eren, but he can still feel the boy climb in beside him, a careful distance apart from Levi's body.

Then, Levi leans over and blows out the candle on the bedside table, enveloping them both in darkness. 

Absolute silence.

Well, not really.

"Would you tell me a bedtime story?" Eren asks, small and hopeful.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"But mommy always tells me one before I go to sleep."

"Not a chance, kid."

"Why?" Is the curious question that follows.

"Don't have any stories to tell." He actually does, but he doesn't think Eren wants to know about his childhood murder adventures slash sob story. 

"…Can you tell me about your mommy?"

Levi tenses. "What? Why would you want to know that?"

Eren pauses for a moment, leaving Levi curious, so he turns over in the bed to face the boy. The kid's expression is hesitant, yet oddly tentative and clearly curious.

"Eren. Why do you want to know about my mother?"

"…Because you have happy memories of her."

Levi frowns, eyebrows knitting together into what is probably the most complicated knot his facial hair has ever achieved. "What the fuck are you talking about, brat?"

Eren turns his small body onto his side, facing Levi so that he might better talk to him.

"You used to fly with your mommy just like I did with you." Eren says this in confidence, looking deep into Levi's grey orbs as they widen in shock. His frown has slowly grown deeper upon his face the later it has gotten in the day, but now he's sure that it's a full upside down 'U'.

"How the fuck do you know that?" He growls harshly, not bothering to mind being gentle with his words. Eren doesn't answer immediately, just shrinking into himself at Levi's tone, so he takes the risk and grabs the brat's wrist, which has been between them this whole time.  _I don't fucking care that he doesn't like people touching him anymore; this has grown personal on a whole different level._

Levi's decision is evidently the wrong one, because the moment he makes contact with Eren's skin, those emerald orbs widen and seem to glaze over with tears. His face crumples and he tries desperately to yank his wrist from Levi's grasp. He lets out a sob, and now Levi is just confused, all of his anger dissipated. 

The kid doesn't like touching people  _that much_?

"Why are you crying, brat? I can't believe that you're getting emotional over me  _fucking touching you_. You do realize that you just told me a part of my past that no one else knows, right? So tell me what you're crying about," He demands, still tightly clutching the kid's wrist.

"I-I don't want to see it anymore! Let go!" Eren yells, loud enough that it's a risk for his parents to hear. 

"See what, anymore?" He keeps his hold on Eren.

"No! Let go of me!"

"Tell me what you don't want to see anymore!"

" _All the dead people!_ "

He is puzzled for a moment, as Eren keeps struggling against him, thinking over the boy's words.

Then, it hits him like a punch in the face.

Levi realizes the reason why Eren doesn't touch strangers, or people in general, and thinks  _Oh. Oh shit._

He whips his hand away like he's been burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all could review so I can know what to work on and what you like (or what you hope to see in future chapters-like c'mon i need to get ideas somehow), then that would be so helpful! You don't have to, but I would really appreciate it, even if it is a little blunt!
> 
> Also, this piece will have a third part, and maybe a fourth. I just don't know yet. I really love writing kid!Eren and thug!Levi playing together.


	8. Meet Isabel Magnolia, Thug and Cousin Extraordinaire Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi knows now, through an eventful night with the kid, but he doesn't know what to think. Is this…somebody like him? After all these years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE OMG. To be honest, I totally forgot about updating this and have had half of this chapter in my drafts for like six months.
> 
> I also feel bad for writing Levi angst, but oh well. 
> 
> So, to make up for it, I wrote a bunch of crack in this chapter too.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> (Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ATTACK ON TITAN NOR DO I OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS. THEY ALL BELONG TO HAJIME ISAYAMA. THANK YOU.)

"No! _Let go of me!"_

_"Tell me what you don't want to see anymore!"_

"All the dead people!"

_He is puzzled for a moment, as Eren keeps struggling against him, thinking over the boy's words._

_Then, it hits him like a punch in the face._

_Levi realizes the reason why Eren doesn't touch strangers, or people in general, and thinks_ Oh. Oh shit.

_He whips his hand away like he's been burned._

_~~~~~~~_

Eren is crying, small fists rubbing at his eyes now that Levi has let go, big fat tears running down his cheeks in the child's terror. Levi is still staring at him, trying to comprehend what is really happening in this mess of a situation, eyes wide and expression incredulous. He's barely remembering to breath. All the air is doing for him now is choking him, the pressure on his trachea like that of a steel toed boot digging in. 

He isn't sure when Eren started being unable to breath too, snot blocking his nostrils so he has to suck it back in to let air through. He sounds like he's almost hyperventilating, even though it's really the difficult task of getting air when he's sobbing so hard that the whites of his eyes turn completely red.

Levi's thoughts have come to a halt. One question and one question only sticks as glue to his mind. 

_Just what memories did Eren see?_

He opens his mouth, tries to speak, tries to ask the boy still sobbing before him, but the words don't come. His throat feels swollen with all the words that he never thought he'd need, that he'd hidden well enough in his past that no one but him even knew that they existed. They've been safely stored in the recesses of his mind, sealed in an iron safe with ten inch thick walls to keep him from breaking into it, or someone else. But now, he remembers the code, the combination in order to access those words, and it's terrifying.

Kenny had helped lock those words away, swallowed the sheet with the numbers on it, so only he could trigger the usage of those words. And he never would, not then, and not now.

Right now, it was Levi. It was all Levi. 

 _"Rule number one, kid. Don't ever cough up who your victims have been. Don't even admit you've had victims. Otherwise, you'll end up like me; stuck with the fucking military police on your ass for the rest of your short, insignificant life."_ Kenny's voice rings in his head, still as clear as it's ever been. It's always been there, since he was old enough to think for himself, to develop a conscience. But those words were Kenny's mantra, his daily lesson to Levi.

The number one rule.

The thin line that could cause a war within himself should he cross it.

And he's about to.

"Eren," He croaks out, voice rough with lack of oxygen and dryness. "What-Which ones did you see?"

Eren won't stop, though. He's no longer in contact with Levi, but he must be unable to rid himself of the things he's seen.  _Like Levi._

"Eren," He tries again, tone more gentle this time. He's not that good with comforting kids as young as this, but he's comforted Isabel before, and he's experienced being the scarred little boy hiding behind a mask of himself. He doesn't want Eren to turn out like that, though. He hasn't cried since his mother died, and he's always thought something was wrong with that.

But he might now. He could be able to muster up the tears that he always thought never existed, now that he knows Eren's secret. 

They're not coming.

Why?

Is it because Eren is crying all his tears for him?

But…that isn't right.

Surely, Eren is just crying because he's scared. He is a little brat after all. It's not because he feels sympathy for Levi at all.

Right?

_Right?_

Apparently not.

"L-Levi," Eren chokes out, finally. He keeps scrubbing his eyes, little sobs still emerging from his throat. His knees are curled up against his chest in utter instinct to protect himself, and his bark colored hair is mussed beyond belief after struggling against the pillow for so long. Levi's heart squeezes a little in his chest. If he'd known what he was putting Eren through, he would have let go earlier, or maybe never touched him at all. It would have been better that way. Better than this snotty, crying mess of a scarred child before him.

Levi is tempted to curl up into a little ball himself, wrap his arms around his legs and bury his face into his knees so no one can see the raw emotion that's sure to have spread across his face. 

"Yeah," He whispers back, controlling his voice so as to not scare Eren or accidentally break down. "I'm still here." Unfortunately.

"W-Why did you have to see th-those things," The boy hiccups, peeking out at Levi from beneath his hands, eyes wide and way too sorrowful for such a young kid like Eren to even be possible.

He doesn't know what to say. "I-I-," he's trying, trying to get the words out. But he doesn't know which words to use. What was his reason for all those gory things he held witness to in the past? Kenny? No, although it's tempting to blame all of it on him. Levi could have left much earlier than he did. Kenny wasn't even pushing him that hard. 

He truly doesn't know. Doesn't think he knows.

He looks at Eren, emerald orbs staring at him, not as bright as they were before, suddenly. More like a dimmed flame, the only light surrounded by a world of shadows.

"I'm sorry," It comes as a whisper, escaping Levi's lips with the absence of anything else to say. Whether he's apologizing to Eren, himself, or his past victims, he doesn't know. "I'm sorry."

What is he doing here? What has he been doing? All this time? 

Eren remains silent, staring up at him from the sheets like the child he is. The boy's thumbs fiddle together where they're clasped atop his knees, like he's waiting for Levi. Just...waiting. Tear tracks are still visible along his cheeks, although they're becoming fewer as time wears on and Levi still says nothing else but murmured apologies.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry for his mother, who sacrificed her life so Levi could live his instead, who gave up her basic essential needs and starved to death like those on the streets. Whose death wasn't worthy of such a kind, giving woman willing to risk everything for a simple bowl of soup. 

Sorry for Kenny. Despite their differences, the man had only given Levi what he needed to survive, no matter how wrong the technique was. He'd had no obligation to take a brat like Levi in, and yet still did, still gave him what he didn't deserve. Hell, Levi doesn't even know where he is now. He could be dead and Levi wouldn't even know. 

Sorry for his victims. Although he had tricked himself into thinking as a child that everyone who opposed his selfish whims was a dirty pig, Levi knew just how much of a lie that was. Sure, some of them definitely were lousy, no good dickwads who deserved no less than a knife in the back from a kid they barely knew. But...there had been others. A child once, his own age at the time. Only ten. They'd been playing together and the boy had cheated before Levi's very eyes, which had led to the accusation, then the fight, then the hidden shard of glass in the waist of Levi's pants. His mother...his mother had come running out, saw her young son, and screamed like a banshee before Kenny finally found him standing there, over both the mother and son's dead bodies, equally bloody stab wounds across their midriffs. Levi had locked that memory tight all these years. Kenny had even told him off about that one. 

Most of all, Levi is sorry for Isabel and Farlan. That young redhead with dull eyes and a tragic repuation of sickness. The intelligent thug who thought he could beat Levi, who had already been invited in and seated at a gourmet restaurant full of potential interests, before Levi could even think to try and take him in. He had dragged them both into his world, one way or another, and now he isn't sure how smart that was, now that Isabel's cousin is laying before him and shaking like a leaf. 

 "Damn," Abruptly, Levi sits up pinching sharply into the bridge of his nose, pristine nails digging into the flesh. The pain is just enough of a distraction from his thoughts, but not enough to make him feel totally without guilt for the things he's done.

Quietly, "Levi?"

Levi stops, brings his hand back down to his lap. He sighs before looking back down at Eren, eyes more imploring than they've ever been when asking for someone's forgiveness. He blames it on the fact that he doesn't want Isabel to be disappointed and angry towards him (that girl can be a fireball when she really gets into reprimanding someone) for upsetting her small cousin, but he knows it isn't really that.

Levi actually harbors a small plethora of affection for this brat.

"I'm sorry, Eren," He says, and the thought that he's genuinely apologizing to someone would make Kenny laugh, alright. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that." 

Eren stares at him, gaze piercing the side of Levi's face. Surprisingly, it unnerves Levi just a little bit, being stared at with those emerald orbs for such an elongated amount of time, and makes him dig his nails into his ankle, which is bent so he already has his hand on it. 

Today is just full of surprises, isn't it?

"It's okay," Comes the small reply, finally. Levi can still feel the gaze on him, though.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you about my mother," Levi forces himself to say, because it's the least he can do to make it up to the kid. "But don't expect any super detailed shit, okay?"

From his position still on the bed, Eren's eyes widen, before he nods vigorously. 

Levi sighs again.

This is going to be a rough ride, something tells him.

He lies down, so he's once again facing Eren and those knowing eyes.

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts.

"First of all, I wasn't a normal brat like some of those dandy little shits up on the surface, okay?" Levi eyes the boy as he starts speaking, gauging his reaction. Eren doesn't seem to have any negative reaction, and Levi supposes that, yeah, maybe he wouldn't if his little "gift" is anything to go by. "My mom was a prostitute."

At this, Eren furrows his eyebrows confusedly. "Pros-prosi-prosti-prostitude?"

Levi pauses. "Yes. A prostitute."

"What's that?"

He has no idea how to explain his mother's previous job description to a five year old, Levi realizes. But he'll try anyways. "It's a job where a man or woman, my mother in this case, gets paid for doing the grown up thing with other people."

"Grown up thing?"

_Oh, sweet holy Lord shitting Jesus fuck me I am so fucked-_

Was Levi really going to have to give Eren the sex talk? 

He would've really rather left the honorable role to Eren's much worthier parents any other day, but the information is vital to telling Eren what he wants to know about Levi's past.

"It's where-you know-you put the-the thing-the dick-into the hole-and-and-God I don't know! It's sex, brat!" Levi finally gets out, and looks down at Eren, who wears an even more confused expression than before.

"Hey, Levi?"

Levi sighs. "What, Eren?"

"What's a 'dick'?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Levi brings a hand up to his face, and scrubs it down in exasperation. 

"Your penis. I don't know, what does your mommy call that thing between your legs?" 

For a second, Eren looks thoughtful. Then he actually looks down before his eyes alight in realization.

"Oh. You mean my chubby?"

A single brow lifts. "Your ch-?" Levi stops. "Yes, brat, your chubby. That's the one."

"But I thought that my chubby was only used to-to-" Eren suddenly moves closer, urging Levi to do so as well. Indifferent, he complies, and leans down to hear what the boy wishes to supposedly whisper in his ear. "To pee-pee?"

Why is this brat so damn naive? It feels like Levi's ruining some sacred altar or some shit like that. 

Although, he's only five, so.

"No, brat. There are other uses too. You know what a vagina is?" He asks.

"No, Levi."

Levi could possibly put his head through a wall at this rate. 

"Okay, Eren, how about we just say that being a prostitute?" Eren nods for him to continue. "Is a really bad thing. You'll learn more about it when you're older."

Eren pouts at this, but Levi elects to ignore him.

"Anyways, my mom was a prostitute. She was treated like shit by her bosses and clients both, and didn't get much in the way of food for us." 

Eren, the little shit, interrupts him. "Mommy says that you need food to grow big and strong. Is that why you're so small?"

At this, Levi has to literally fucking hold himself back from drop kicking Eren out of the window. He grits his teeth, and counts to fifty in his head.

"Yes, brat, and you're gonna be small for the rest of your shitty life too if you don't shut the fuck up right now." 

Eren does, fortunately. 

Levi takes another breath, and starts again. "We didn't have much in the way of food, so my mother used to give all of it to me, without telling me. Even then, it was usually only a tiny bowl of soup every two days or so, because nobody wanted to fuck a whore who'd already had a kid." Levi sneers at that, thinking of all the times men had looked at him and curled their lips in disgust towards his beautiful mother. All those times Levi was made to hide in an abandoned closet in his mother's room by the brothel owners, all the while hearing every damn thing going on, because they needed the fucking money she earned. "We were fucking starving. My mom was fucking starving, and yet she kept doing that fucking god forsaken job of pleasing those pigs. All for me. And she protected me, for my gift, at the same time. Despite being so weak she could hardly stand half the time."

Levi stops, lets it sink in. 

Then, "Gift?" Eren asks. He still seems to be processing the true tragedy Levi's early childhood really was. 

"I'm like you, Eren."

The boy's brows pull together, and if his head wasn't already against the pillow, he probably would've done a head tilt. "Like me? How?"

"When you touch someone, you see their memories, yeah?"

Eren nods. A gleam of understanding is beginning to shine through those emerald eyes.

"I'm like you. I touch people when they're hurt, and although I can't see their memories of how they were hurt, I can feel their pain. I share that pain with them." _With all of my victims_ , goes unsaid, but Levi thinks he gets the point across. 

Eren's eyes widen farther than Levi's seen them all day, and he worries for a slight moment that boy might be scared of him before a large smile breaks out across Eren's small face. Levi lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. 

"So, both our mommies protect us because of our gifts, then?" He asks, which startles Levi. Out of the whole story, the brat seems to  take the single most positive aspect and turn it into the one thing he remembers. How ironic. 

_Yet adorable._

Levi smiles slightly, just a tilt at the corner of his lips, and reaches out to affectionately ruffle this adorable kid's hair. 

"Yeah, brat, our mommies protect us because of our gifts."

Eren giggles, and Levi feels that warmth in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. 
> 
> Also, even though Levi kind of sounds like he's shaming prostitutes in this, he still loves his mother more than anything. This view of prostitution is the version portrayed in some of Isayama's manga chapters, and what I've interpreted it to be like in the snk world, not the real world. I still respect prostitutes in the real world, in their times when they really need the money, and for doing something that I could never be brave enough to do even in financially challenging times. They're all beautiful, and still deserve the respect everyone else gets.
> 
> Thank you! Please leave comments, criticisms, suggestions, and reviews down below! Love you guys! ;)


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